The Missing Boy in the Media
by Iphelinda
Summary: When Booth is given a body that links to an old media story that the team find difficult to handle, Sweets discovers he's in immediate danger and cannot afford to continue to help Booth with the case at hand. Rated M for violence.
1. Chapter 1

Okay, so I decided to try and write a Bones episode plot-ish…

_Here it goes, this is set after Mayhem on the Cross, and we're assuming that the scars on Sweet's back were worse than originally shown. _

I do not only write torture fics! I promise!

Bones – The missing boy in the media

It was late afternoon, Dr Temperance Brennan was running the necessary identification of old skulls held in 'Limbo' while Angela Montenegro was making sketches to aid her. Dr Camille Saroyan was drinking a cup of tea on the balcony overlooking the Jeffersonian laboratories, while Dr Jack Hodgins was admiring a particularly fine specimen of Ichneumon wasp, which had just flown in through the window and was now sitting on his work place.

'Look at you, you beauty! What brought you into this little lab, hey?' he cooed to the wasp, which buzzed it's wings waspishly in annoyance as the entomologist slowly moved a glass jar above it in an attempt to catch it. Dr Lance Sweets was watching the insect, his eyes widened childishly as he grinned at the bright colours and long ovipositor. He'd originally walked into the lab to speak to Dr Brennan about matters concerning her father; but the brightly coloured arthropod had caught his attention.

Finally, Hodgins trapped the insect under the glass and slipped a piece of paper underneath to catch it. He raised the glass to eye level and stared into it, his huge blue eyes twinkling with excitement as he laughed, pleased with himself.

Sweets tapped the glass with a finger, also fascinated by the insect inside. Hodgins looked up to him.

'This is a large specimen of the common ichneumon wasp or driller wasp… just look at those colours baby!'

Booth walked into the lab through the doors shouting. 'Bones! Hey Bones! Take a look at this!'

Some other FBI agents who were carrying a large, black body bag accompanied him. They dumped the bag on the laboratory table and Brennan rushed to take over. She unzipped the bag and peered in, and wrinkled her nose in disgust.

'Male. Mid forties…' She looked up at Booth. 'Booth, this body has too much skin for me. This is more Cam's field…'

Cam appeared at Dr Brennan's shoulder, pulling on a pair of plastic gloves. She leaned over to look into the bag, and then turned her face away. 'That may just well be one of the most disturbing things I've ever seen.' She said, grimacing.

'I agree.' Responded Brennan. 'The skin on the face has been entirely removed and it looks like the teeth have been ripped out with… Pliers.' She looked up at Booth. 'Where did you find this?'

'It was given to me.' Booth stated.

'What?' both Cam and Brennan exclaimed at once.

Angela moved in for a look, immediately she regretted it. 'Oh my God!' She said, disgusted. 'Wait, this was given to you? Oh God!'

'We have an identity, and we have a suspect. But you're not going to like this…' Booth started.

'Why am I not going to like this?' Brennan asked, examining the areas of skull that were showing through the face.

'You ever heard of the Dante Masters case?' Booth started. Brennan shook her head and unzipped the body bag further. The word 'Payback' was cut deeply into the chest of the corpse.

Hodgins shoved the Ichneumon wasp into Sweets' hands and walked quickly to the table. 'Did you say Dante Masters? Oh whoa…. Whoa whoa whoa!Major conspiracy there!' He exclaimed.

Sweets fumbled the glass and put it on the side, his face sullen. He absentmindedly watched the insect buzzing to be free of the glass, to make it's existence known to the world and to escape it's transparent prison. In fact, he was listening intently to the conversation.

'Easy there Hodgins…' Booth stated, waving his arms to shut his colleague up.

'I don't understand.' Brennan stated, looking up from the body for the first time since it had arrived.

Booth sighed. 'You should really get a TV Bones…'

'No. I shouldn't. Being distracted by television shows and…' Brennan began, but Booth interrupted her.

'Well, if you owned a TV, you would have seen the Dante Masters case from years ago, and you'd know what we were talking about.'

'Oh God… THE Dante Masters? As in that poor little boy that…' Angela started, Booth merely nodded. Cam mouthed the word 'damn' and looked down.

Brennan looked around her, confused. 'I… could someone please enlighten me?' She asked.

'Dante Masters was the biggest mistake the Foster care system ever made…' Booth began.

'But the Foster system is always making mistakes. It's a system based…' Brennan interrupted.

'No. You don't know Bones.' Booth continued. 'The Masters case was in public view seventeen years ago. Masters was listed as one of the worst child abuse cases ever.' He glanced up at Sweets, knowing that working on a case to do with this subject could be painful for the psychologist. 'Dante was abused horrifically until he was about six. There was a huge news scandal when it was discovered and it rocked the media for ages. After that, no-one ever heard about the boy again. He seemed to disappear from the surface of the earth…'

Sweets stepped in. 'Basically he either died or was given a new identity as protection from his adoptive parents.'

'Precisely!' Booth agreed. Then paused, 'How do you know that?' He turned to Sweets.

'Agent Booth, I became a psychologist to save people. To help them get over past experience and to change their lives. The Dante Masters case is an exact example of why I went into this career; a child who needed to be saved or his life would become a disaster.'

'Yeah. But lets face it Sweets, any kid who went through what that child went through is beyond saving. No offence, but a kid like that, well, lets just say I've seen killers with a less screwed up past.' Booth said, doing his weird half smile and making a clicking noise as he cocked his head to the side.

'Not necessarily Booth…' Sweets challenged. Again, Dr Brennan interrupted.

'I still don't understand. Is this body Dante Masters or what?'

'Yes. Booth I'm confused.' Cam agreed.

'No. Dante Masters is the suspect. This is Philip Masters. Dante's adopted father. His wife requested that the Jeffersonian find out what happened.' Booth replied.

'Wait, so those monsters were let out of jail?' Brennan asked.

'You see Bones, this is why you need a TV. They were released last week.' Booth sighed.

'God… I hate the legal system sometimes! And the adoption system! The whole governmental failings are just so… unfair.' Said Brennan, clearly distressed by the case at hand.

'Hold up people.' Cam interjected. 'If Dante Masters is the suspect… that means we have to find him, right?'

Brennan picked up on what she was saying. '… But he's been missing from media and public records for seventeen years. How do we find a man who's very existence has been wiped?'

Sweets turned away, and returned his attention to the wasp, and seeing it's trapped frustration, lifted the glass and let it fly free. It headed directly for a window, but Sweets did not watch it long enough to see it leave.

Hodgins looked excited. 'My peeps… we have a conspiracy!'


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Dr Lance Sweets hung towards the back of the Autopsy room as Cam dissected the body of their latest case.

'Why are you in here, Sweets?' Cam asked, slightly annoyed.

'I though it would be good to take an interest in other people's work.' Sweets grinned. 'I have nothing to do right now so I thought I'd come and see what other people were doing.'

'Well I should warn you, Dr Sweets, this autopsy is not gonna be pretty. I don't think I've ever seen a body quite as badly beaten as this. Finding a cause of death out of so many possibilities will be tough.' Cam said, picking up a scalpel. 'Poor guy. No-one deserves to be hurt like this.'

'In some cases people believe that what they're doing is right, like taking the law into their own hands. This man could be considered evil and deserving of what came to him.' Sweets began.

'Sweets. Get out of my autopsy room.' Cam said, angrily.

'I was merely saying that this man is classed as a monster. Surely you've seen reports of the case? And that is so wickedly gross…' Sweets responded, wincing as Cam cut into the mouth of the victim to assess the damage to the toothless gums.

'Yes I saw the reports. Yes I think he's a monster, but that doesn't change the fact that it is wrong for someone to injure someone like this. Now get out and stop gawping.' Cam waved the bloody scalpel threateningly in Sweets' direction.

'I am not gawping! And okay, I agree, no-one deserves that. Just remember we're dealing with a child abuse case, so having a psychologist on board is always a good idea!' Sweets grinned again.

'I'm not likely to forget.' Cam mumbled.

Sweets left the autopsy room, and after pestering Hodgins (who was picking particulates off the victims clothing) and being told to leave again, he sat up on the balcony with a cup of coffee and stared into it long and hard. He needed some sort of distraction.

'Hey Sweets!' Angela's voice chimed. Sweets looked up from his coffee as Angela took a seat at the chair opposite him.

'God I just can't believe that we have to deal with this case! I mean, the news report made me feel sick enough. How can someone do that kind of thing to a child!' She said. Shaking her head. 'I don't know if Dante Masters is alive right now, but if he is, do you think he could of done it?' She asked.

Sweets considered it for a minute. 'Angela I was six when this case was first aired. I don't know. People react to situations differently.'

Angela continued. 'And poor Brennan! I mean, she was in the whole foster system. This must just be such a reminder for her!'

Sweets went pale and looked down. But before Angela could notice, Booth had interrupted, he was walking with a tall blonde woman. She looked desperately sad and held a tissue tightly in one hand.

'Angela, Sweets, this is Caroline Masters. She was the sister of Philip.' Booth introduced her.

'Before you say anything, I just want to say that I know what my brother did was wrong, and I played no part in what he did. I just wanted to thank you for helping to find the creature that killed my brother.' The woman said, her voice sounded clear, despite the tears on her face.

Angela stood up and walked to comfort the crying woman.

'God, this case is so hard for all of us. I'm sorry about your brother, for what he did, and for the fact that he's gone.' She shook the woman's hand. 'I'm Angela Montenegro, and this is Dr Lance Sweets. If you need to talk to anyone about your brother's case, you can talk to Sweets.' Angela smiled sympathetically. Caroline moved towards Sweets and held out her hand. The strangest smile crossed her face, it was slightly menacing and warning at the same time, but her back was turned on Booth and Angela, so they did not notice it.

Sweets stood up and stared the woman in the eye; his face was deathly calm and showed no emotion. He held out his hand robotically and the woman shook it firmly.

'I see your boy psychologist blames me for my brothers actions.' She said bemusedly, turning to look at Booth, still holding Sweets' hand.

'Sweets!' Booth warned.

'Make no mistake…' Caroline continued turning back to face Sweets. 'I had nothing to do with what my brother did.' She hissed.

'I'm sorry for your loss.' Sweets said, but his voice was cold and emotionless.

Caroline turned back to Angela and Booth. 'No, I don't think I'll use your psychologist. He has a bit of… growing up to do. Thank you for your time and effort on trying to find my brother's murderer.'

Booth looked over Sweets and mouthed 'Sweets! What are you doing?' he looked angry.

'Agent Booth, I can't work this case. I… I'm sorry.' Sweets announced. He left the balcony quickly, pushing past Booth, Angela and Caroline and leaving a nearly full cup of coffee on the table.

Booth turned to Caroline. 'I'm terribly sorry; he's not usually like that. Just this case is getting to him a bit.' He turned to Angela and lifted his shoulders and shook his head, clearly displaying confusion at Sweets' behaviour. Angela shook her head and muttered 'I don't know.'

Booth took Caroline back to his office and offered her a chair. He questioned her as to why she thought that Dante was the killer. Her response was simple; Dante, wherever he was, wanted revenge for what was done to him. He had always been a difficult child, and although that did not justify what was done to him, he was hard to handle.

Later that day, Booth called in Dr Wyatt to help briefly. He explained that Sweets had resigned from the case, and asked if Dr Wyatt could help to get the younger psychologist back on board. At first Wyatt had refused, saying repeatedly that he was retired, and wanted nothing to do with the FBI any longer, but Booth had asked it as a favour, and the young Dr Sweets' actions were considered as a definite issue.

And so it was that Dr Wyatt returned to the FBI headquarters, and, along side Agent Booth, stood outside the door to Dr Sweets' office. They knocked.

Sweets opened the door and looked at Booth. 'I said I quit the case.' He started to close the door.

Booth stuck a foot out and held the door open. 'This isn't about the case Sweets. This is about your behaviour earlier.'

'So you've come to tell me off.' Sweets smiled sarcastically. He clearly was not going to get his way and be left alone. He motioned to the sofa for Booth and Wyatt to sit and took a seat in his own chair.

'It's not my fault that I have difficulties facing up to subject of this case agent Booth! I feel my judgement is clouded and so I resigned.' Sweets stated simply, leaning back in his chair and clasping his hands together.

'Yeah, but Sweets, there is always gonna be something in a case where you take sides, you just have to get over it.' Explained Booth, leaning forwards.

Dr Wyatt moved to sit on the edge of his seat, looking Sweets directly in the face.

'In fact Agent Booth, I fear that the true reason for Sweets' dislike for the case is a little closer to home. Isn't that right Lance?'

'What?' Sweets responded, his tone slightly aggressive. Booth looked confused.

Dr Wyatt leaned back in the sofa.

'Well it would seem to me that a young psychologist who came into the field precisely to save people, would take an interest in doing just that. I would say that any other case on this subject, and Dr Sweets would jump at the idea of proving that people can change. That mistakes can be forgiven and that a troubled past does not necessarily lead to a troubled future. Logically there can be only one explanation for Dr Sweets' apprehension towards the case. Can't there?'

Sweets' face hardened. He sat up and narrowed his eyes clearly nervous and slightly angry.

'And what would that be?' He enquired, but his voice was stony.

'That you, Lance Sweets, were in fact Dante Masters.' Dr Wyatt finished, and he leaned forwards again, watching Sweets' response carefully.

Sweets swallowed hard and shifted uncomfortably in his chair, he shook his head slightly, repeating the word 'wow'quietly in shock that he'd been caught out so easily. Dr Wyatt smiled, satisfied that he was correct. He turned his attention to Booth.

'In which case Agent Booth, I believe that it would be of absolute importance to remove Dr Sweets from the case.'

Booth looked to Sweets, he still seemed confused.

'Sweets? Is this true?' He asked, his voice getting higher, reflecting his surprise.

Sweets paused for a while, and then averted his gaze to the floor. 'Yes.'

'Then you realise that you're the prime suspect in this case?'

'Yes.'

'And I'm going to need to question you at some point?'

'Yes.'

'Sweets, why didn't you say anything?'

Sweets sniffed, and didn't respond.

'Sweets?'

Still no response.

'Perhaps I can offer an idea?' Dr Wyatt started, watching Sweets' face to see if he was allowed.

'Go ahead.' Sweets said, smiling politely and motioning with his hand for Wyatt to continue.

'Clearly the whole concept was dead and buried to you, so to have it re-appear rather suddenly, your best course of action would be to ignore it. The safest course of action. The one less likely to get you hurt, just to pretend it never happened and keep the past in the past. You haven't done anything wrong Lance.'

Sweets looked up and smiled without parting his lips. It seemed genuine. 'Thank you.' He said simply.

Booth stood and patted Sweets on the shoulder. 'I'm sorry.' He offered, and then left, motioning for Dr Wyatt to join him and leaving Sweets sitting in his office with an awful lot to think about. The psychologist pulled his chair up to the computer, plugged in some headphones and put on his favourite death metal track.

Booth ran into Dr Brennan in the corridor, she'd been looking for him.

'Booth, Hodgins found dirt on the body which suggests that the victim was dragged…'

Booth cut her off. He looked upset.

'We found Dante Masters.' He said, his voice low.

'Well, that's good…' Brennan began.

'It's Sweets.' Booth finished, and walked past her. Brennan looked to Dr Wyatt for an explanation. 'It would seem that the affection that young Dr Sweets holds for you and Agent Booth is not as one sided as it once seemed.' The psychologist offered.

'Is Sweets in his office?' Brennan asked. Wyatt nodded and Brennan rushed past him.

Brennan arrived at Sweets' office and looked through the glass door. She saw Sweets sitting at his desk, headphones over his ears, tapping his fingers in time to some music. She sighed as her eyes began to water slightly, and she pushed the door open.

Upon hearing the sound, Sweets turned on the chair and took the headphones off. 'Dr Brennan!' He exclaimed, his usual cheeriness faltering only slightly. He grinned and offered her a seat.

'Sweets I am so sorry.' Brennan started and moved to Sweets and hugged him awkwardly. Sweets was slightly confused.

'Dr Brennan, I assure you, I'm fine! Ok, so there's some wicked big stuff going on right now, but I just need to take a step back!'

Brennan released him and sat on the sofa. She choked back a light sob.

'Dr Brennan… are you crying?' Sweets asked surprised, grinning uncertainly.

'Yes.' Brennan responded. 'Sweets, this case is just bringing back so many…so many awful memories and I'm finding it difficult to remain...' She paused. 'Objective. Which is weird for me… And you're in the middle of it and I just can't imagine for a second what you must be going through, or what you went through… and I seriously don't know what to say in these kind of situations, and I wish I did… You must be very brave. I'm so sorry'

Sweets smiled at being called brave.

'Dr Brennan!' He exclaimed, laughing slightly at how unlike her usual social awkwardness this was. 'Clearly a part of you does know what to day in this kind of situation!' He stood. 'Look, you're right. I am in the middle of this and I really need a break right now. I'm heading home. You just solve the case. And try to remain… objective.' Sweets smiled at his repeat of the phrase that Dr Brennan had used.

He excused himself and left. Brennan stayed for a bit, she shook her head in amazement at how her colleague was handling the situation. Her phone buzzed in her pocket, she picked it up and answered it. It was Cam.

'Dr Brennan I've found something that you might want to take a look at.'

Brennan's phone bleeped in her ear, she briefly removed it to look at the screen, it was a text from Booth saying 'Urgent. My office.' She raised the phone again. Cam's voice was still on the other end.

'Dr Brennan? Dr Brennan are you there?'

'I'm sorry Cam, something has just come up. Can you tell me later?' Brennan responded, then hung up her phone and hurried to Booth's office.

She arrived and found Dr Wyatt sitting on a chair, his face deadly serious while Booth shouted security instructions down the phone.

'Wha… What's going on?' Brennan asked.

Booth put the phone down.

'Some Philip Masters support group has just announced an attack on Dante Masters if they get to him first.' Booth said, his tone menacingly serious.

'What… A support group?' Brennan exclaimed, shocked.

'Yeah Bones. Some people like the idea of torturing other people for no reason.' Booth replied, his anger at the pure evil behind the concept burning into his words and making them sound almost aggressive.

'But it's morally incorrect… it's just…' Brennan started.

'Wrong?' Booth finished for her. 'Yes. It is. Damn! ' He slammed his fist on the desk angrily. Then relaxed as he had time to think the situation over.

'But it should be alright. I've got security keeping an eye on Sweets, and the likelihood of his new identification ever being found, just… isn't likely, okay?' Booth was clearly angry. 'Just, go back to Sweets' office, and tell him to stay put.'

Brennan opened her mouth as if to say something, Booth read the look on her face immediately.

'What now?' He demanded.

'I… Sweets just went home. He said he needed a break…' Brennan said.

Booth swore loudly.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Booth and Brennan were in the black FBI car, the lights flashing and the siren ringing out.

'I don't see why we're driving as though we're about to reach the scene of a crime Booth.' Brennan said, watching as yet another car pulled over to let them pass.

'Sweets could be in trouble, okay Bones? So we want to get to his place as soon as possible to check that everything is okay.'

'But you said that you had a team looking out for him and that it was highly unlikely that anyone could identify him.'

'Yeah, that's what I thought. Until I remembered how Caroline Masters reacted to him. It was, you know, a little…' Booth pressed a finger to the side of his head and turned it making a creaky noise to signify the woman's actions as having been a bit weird. 'Anyway. Better be safe than sorry!'

'Booth! Keep both hands on the steering while when you're driving this fast!' Brennan shouted, raising her hand instinctively as though about to grab the wheel. Her phone rang, she picked it up and checked the caller ID.

'Oh! It's Cam.' She said to Booth. Then answered the phone.

Cam's voice sounded displeased. 'Dr Brennan where are you?'

Brennan drew a breath through her teeth as she realised that she was meant to talk to Cam about something earlier.

'Look, Cam, I'm sorry something came up. When I get back to the Jeffersonian I will…' Brennan began, but Cam interrupted.

'Blood pooling around the gums suggests that the teeth were extracted post-mortem.'

Brennan paused at this new information.

'Are you sure?' She asked.

'That's exactly why I want you to take a look at it, I am sure, but I can't see why. And here's the other weird part; the cuts on the chest and the carving, also occurred post-mortem. I would assume the broken bones are too…' Cam responded.

'No. Don't jump to assumptions. I'll look into it when I get back.' Brennan hung up and turned to Booth.

'That's odd. The external injuries all occurred after the victim was dead.' She told him.

Booth shrugged. 'So? What does that mean?'

'I'm not sure. But I don't like it.' Brennan said, putting her phone back in her pocket.

The car slowed and pulled to a stop outside a small house with high wooden fencing around the back garden.

'We're here.' Booth said, smiling.

'How come Sweets can afford a place like this?' Brennan asked, the house wasn't particularly big, but it seemed unlikely that a psychologist as young as Sweets could be able to afford it.

'Government records say that this house belonged to Mr and Mrs Sweets, and they left it to their adopted son.' Booth replied.

'That makes sense.' Brennan said, nodding.

Booth grinned as he opened the door. 'Lets go find us a duck! And hope that no-one else decides to come duck hunting.'

Brennan was about to say something, then realised that she was taking the whole 'looking for a duck' too literally again.

Booth walked to front door and knocked. Then knocked again. No-one answered.

'Oh I hope you forgive me for this, Sweets.' He muttered as he kicked the door in.

'Sweets?' Brennan shouted as she walked into the small hallway. The stairs were directly to her left and the kitchen seemed dead ahead. To her right was a door leading into the living room. She walked in.

Booth yelled up the stairs. 'Sweets?'

Brennan copied by yelling into the living room. She walked to a photo on top of a small bookcase. The bookcase contained a variety of psychology books, as well as a shelf dedicated entirely to comics and sci-fi films, including Firefly, Star Wars and a small Yoda statue. She picked up the photo and looked at it. What she saw made her smile; a young Sweets, about ten or so smiling as he was held by two much older looking people. The young Sweets was reaching out to the camera, his hair was slightly longer, curlier, and freckles ran across his nose and cheeks. The older couple were smiling, their hair was grey, or turning that way and both wore glasses. The picture was framed in a brightly coloured frame, pink and yellow and blue stripes. It looked childish and fun. The words 'We will love you always Lance, love Mom and Dad x' were written in pen across the base of the picture.

It took Brennan a few seconds to look at the picture, and she placed it back down smiling. She looked up, and saw that the glass panel doors leading into the back were open. They looked out onto a patio with two chairs and a wall covered in flowerpots. Stairs lead down from the patio onto what must have been the back garden, at the base of them was a hose that looked to be the kind that you use to top up a swimming pool.

'Booth!' Brennan shouted. 'Booth!' She started to edge towards the door. Surely Sweets would have heard all their shouting from out there.

'Bones! Bones come here!' Booth cried, he sounded urgent, scared almost. Brennan ran into the hallway.

'Booth?' She shouted, panicked.

Booth's head appeared from the kitchen. 'Bones come and look at this.' He said. Brennan walked into the kitchen, watching Booth confused, Booth pointed to the sink. Brennan looked.

'Blood…' She whispered, and looked up to Booth. The FBI agent watched at her, his eyes imploring her for some sort of answer that would say that Sweets was ok. Brennan pulled on a glove and walked to inspect the sink.

'Very little. Not enough to kill someone. It looks like the amount from if your hand slipped on a knife while preparing something. The knife is still here…' she said picking it up.

'Did you find anything?' Booth asked.

'Only a photo…' Then she remembered 'and the door was open…' Brennan looked up, realising what she'd just said. 'The door was open! Booth!' She dropped the knife and ran into the living room again, followed by Booth. They ran outside onto the patio. Brennan ran to look over the wall onto the garden.

'No.' She whispered as she looked into the garden and down onto the swimming pool. She turned to Booth with tears in her eyes and shook her head.

'What?' He demanded. 'WHAT?' He panicked and ran down the stairs onto the concrete of the pool surroundings. Brennan followed closely. Booth looked out into the pool, a single figure of a man in a suit lay on the very bottom.

'No. Sweets!' Booth shouted taking off his jacked and running to the poolside. He paused to look down into the water. The psychologist lay on the bottom of the pool, his eyes were open as he stared upwards. His arms and legs were splayed and there was the dark, almost smoky, trace of blood rising from under one of his sleeves. As Booth watched, Sweets mouth opened slightly and some bubbles escaped, rising to the surface of the water.

From under the water everything was quiet. Sweets could only hear the steady thump of his own heart as it got slower and slower. Through the blur of the water above him he could just make out figures on the surface and was roughly aware of his name being called. He was tired and unable to hold his breath any longer. He opened his mouth and the last bubbles of air rose above him as the water poured in choking him, drowning him. His vision grew darker and darker. As the blackness crept in, he slowly closed his eyes. The thumping stopped.

Booth threw his gun to the floor and kicked his shoes off. He dived into the pool and swam directly into the depths. He scooped the body of Dr Lance Sweets up into his arms and swam desperately for the surface of the water. Dr Brennan watched, tears flowed freely down her face. Booth's head broke the surface of the water, he quickly turned Sweets face so it was in the clean air. 'Sweets? Sweets?' He shouted, shaking the body a little, trying to get it to wake. He looked terrified and kicked himself to the edge. Brennan helped him to lift Sweets onto the side where she lay him down unmoving on the warm, hard concrete. 'Oh God, Sweets…' She whispered.

She tilted his head back and pressed the side of her cheek to his mouth. Booth climbed out of the pool and scramble to where Sweets was lying.

'Sweets? Sweets?' He repeated over and over.

Brennan shook her head.

'Not breathing Booth.' She placed two fingers on the side of Sweets neck and rested them there for a moment. 'No heart rate…'

'No. No no no no no no no…' Booth started. He pushed down on Sweets sternum with thirty chest compressions, hoping to force some of the water from the psychologist's lungs. Pool water dribbled from the side of Sweets' mouth. Taking this as a sign, Booth began trying to resuscitate him. Brennan called for an ambulance.

When the ambulance was phoned for, Brennan turned to Booth, who was still trying keep Sweets alive.

'Booth… the average human can hold their breath for just over a minute. Added with how long it takes before the brain starts to die without oxygen, do you think we got here in time?' She asked. Her eyes were red from crying.

Booth's reply was in parts as he tried to speak while performing another round of chest compressions.

'There… has… to be… a … chance… Bones. … We … have… to … have … faith…'

Brennan nodded sadly, not wanting to argue with Booth's beliefs, and really hoping that there was still a chance.

The ambulance arrived after what seemed like an age, and the paramedics rushed to Booth's aid. They ripped open Sweets' shirt, exposing more scar lines across his chest, and quickly put two defibrillator pads on. Brennan ran to hug Booth as she always did when she got scared and turned her face away, while Booth watched as the young psychologist's body jarred at the electric current, causing him to jump slightly.

A paramedic draped a towel over Booth's shoulders, and asked if he was alright, but Booth could pay no attention. The paramedics checked Sweets' heart rate again, then shook their heads and shocked him for a second time. All sound seemed to stop in Booth's mind. He was roughly aware of Dr Brennan crying into his shoulder, and the sound of the defibrillator and the paramedics rushing around, but nothing else.

'Come on Sweets.' He whispered as the fourth electric current passed through Sweets' body. The paramedics checked the pulse again, and this time drew back, one of them quickly placed a mask over Sweets' face and started squeezing a bag to push air into his lungs, while the others began wrapping him in blankets and strapped him to a yellow board. One applied a dressing to a series of long cuts along the inside of one of Sweets' arms. They lifted him gently and began to carry him back through the house to the ambulance waiting outside.

One paramedic turned to Booth.

'Do you know how long he was under the water?'

Booth shook his head. 'No. We found him in the pool. Will Sweets be okay?' He asked tentatively.

The paramedic shook his head. 'It's too early to tell. If you have any information…'

Dr Brennan pulled away from Booth, her makeup was smudged and her eyes were red.

'It can't have been long. The blood specks in the sink hadn't dried and he was bleeding when we arrived out here, which means that his heart was still beating. If we'd have been a minute faster… if I'd have gone straight outside, or if… if we'd… but there's no use fantasising about 'what if'. I'm being so silly…'

'Bones. You okay?' Booth asked, reaching out and touching her shoulder.

Brennan sniffed. 'Yeah. I think so.' She turned to Booth. 'Why'd he do it?'

'I don't know.' Came the reply. 'Is it okay if we take a look around?' Booth asked the paramedic.

'You're FBI so that seems fine. If you can think of anything that would help us in treating… Sweets did you say?' The paramedic answered.

Booth nodded. 'Yeah. Sweets. Dr Lance Sweets.'

'Right. Thank you.' The paramedic said, and left.

Booth offered Brennan a tissue, she accepted it gratefully. Booth watched her, worried. 'He'll be fine.' He said trying to reassure both himself and his partner. Brennan nodded. Booth's face went deadly serious as he made a decision as to what to do next.

'We need to find out if this was suicide or attempted murder. And I want to know why anyone would want Sweets dead. I think we need to find the people involved with the original social-services case…'


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4.

Brennan took her phone from her pocket and phoned Cam to inform her of what was going on. Booth sat on the concrete by the pool, staring out into its blue depths and mentally trying to get to grips with everything that had just happened.

Back in the Jeffersonian, Cam was wondering if she'd ever be able to figure the reason behind most of the marks on the body. Her phone rang but she ignored it, choosing instead to take another look at the remains.

Almost as soon as the phone stopped ringing, it started again. This time Cam answered and was met with a slightly muffled sounding Dr Brennan.

'Dr Brennan I have yet to identify any injuries that may account to cause of death. This is… Dr Brennan is everything okay?' Cam was aware of a strange silence on the other end of the phone.

' Sweets… is in hospital.' Brennan replied.

'Oh my god… what happened?' Cam asked.

'We found him at the bottom of his pool. We think it was an attempt at suicide.'

Cam was shocked.

'What? Why?'

'I need to talk to everyone when we get back.' Brennan hung up.

Upstairs in Angela's working room, Hodgins and the artist were discussing the case.

'You know, some people don't think that Dante Masters even exists. They think he was a media fabrication to boost support for charities stopping child abuse. Hey, they got my dollar!' Hodgins started.

'Ok, so how do you explain the fact that we're working on the case?' Angela challenged.

'Clearly it was real. But the question is… what happened to the boy? Is it all some sort of government clean up? Did he die but it was just said that he lived because the public couldn't handle it? There are some groups who say it was aliens…' Hodgins carried on, his voice raising as he got more excited about the variety of conspiracy theories surrounding the case. Angela shook her head at the level of some of the total rubbish that her ex was spouting. Hodgins continued nevertheless.

'There are some who say that his adopted parents were part of a cult who believed in purifying humanity by destroying an innocent life, and that they're looking for him to continue their rituals…'

'That's sick!' Angela said, pulling a face that suggested she was really freaked out.

'There are some people who say that he's in serious danger if he's ever found, there's a theory that he's a mass murderer who's never been caught… certainly has the tortured background for that one… and there's a theory that he was so smart, he was accelerated forward several educational years and got a university degree when he was still a teenager. But my personal favourite, is that he was privately trained and works as a top secret government spy or soldier!'

Cam walked in.

'No secret super soldiers Dr Hodgins.' She warned, and then her tone became serious. 'Sweets is in hospital.' She ducked her head slightly, looking at the floor. 'Booth thinks is was a suicide attempt.' She looked up at Angela and Hodgins.

'Well that sucks!' Announced Hodgins, he remained in slightly good humour, although was actually quite shocked and upset. 'Our psychologist tried to kill himself.'

'Oh that's awful.' Angela whispered. 'Will he be alright?'

'I don't know.' Cam said. 'But Dr Brennan said that they had something that she and agent Booth had to tell us. So let's keep working people, and hopefully Sweets will be fine.'

Angela nodded, and turned sadly to Hodgins, but the entomologist was already leaving.

Meanwhile Booth was going through Sweets' answer phone messages, hoping that something would help to piece together why Sweets had seemed fine, and then they'd found him on the bottom of a swimming pool, while Brennan took a look round. She passed the photo again, and the bright colours made her smile once more.

'Everything is so organised.' She commented, noticing that the DVD and book collections were in alphabetical order, and that the comics were arranged in numerical order. Everything looked like it had a place, and as though it was carefully planned out.

Booth put the phone down.

'Anything?' Brennan asked.

'No. There's a message about the Masters being released last week, warning him not to worry and that they wouldn't find him. Other than that nothing of use.' He replied.

Brennan looked over to Booth, and something caught her eye as she turned her head. It was a flash of white. A letter, that looked as though it had been opened, stuffed back in the envelope, and then cast aside.

'I think I might have found something…' Brennan took the letter and read it. It was typed, with no address, no date, nothing. It had two words printed plainly in the centre of the page; 'found you.'

Brennan handed it to Booth who glanced at it and nodded. They headed back to the Jeffersonian.

Hodgins stood on the balcony looking over the working area of the Jeffersonian. He was soon accompanied by Dr Wyatt and the two of them stood for a while looking over the workplace. Hodgins broke the silence first, as was Wyatt's prediction.

'Sweets tried to kill himself.' He said simply.

'So I heard.' Responded Wyatt. 'And how does that make you feel?'

'He's just a kid.' Hodgins stared ahead, his face unmoving.

Wyatt bowed his head, and glanced over at Hodgins. The entomologist showed no sign of a deep sadness at what had happened, but there was clearly some sort of slight attachment to the youngest member of the team.

Booth and Brennan walked in. Booth looked exhausted; he was still soaking wet and his hair was a mess. Brennan also looked tired, her eye makeup was smudged and her hair out of place. Angela rushed to meet them, taking Brennan in a friendly hug.

'Oh my god. What happened?' The artist enquired.

'Angela…' Brennan started, but Cam walked into the scene and stopped her.

'I suggest that everyone heads up to the sofas so we can discuss whatever is going on?'

Brennan nodded.

Cam, Angela, Booth and Brennan joined Wyatt and Hodgins on the balcony, where they sat on the sofas. Booth was the first to speak.

'Sweets is Dante Masters. We think he tried to kill himself to escape the case.'

'No way…' Hodgins exclaimed. 'Sweets?' He shook his head.

'Yeah Hodgins.' Booth replied. 'It's Sweets. We found a note in his house that suggests that he's in trouble.'

'Which could explain his sudden decision to take his life.' Wyatt added.

Brennan glanced at Booth to see if she should speak. 'We think the Masters know who he is and intend to find him.' She said.

'Ritualistic killers. Resolving mankind through the torture and sacrifice of innocents…' Hodgins exclaimed, shaking his head.

'What?' Booth snapped, genuinely confused.

'The Masters case… there was always an element of ritualistic torture. The teeth ripped out, the broken limbs…' Hodgins continued, Booth raised a hand to stop him.

'Sweets has teeth.' He said.

'Sweets' teeth are fake.' Brennan said suddenly. 'I noticed when I first saw him, it just never seemed right to ask.'

'Whoa.' Booth breathed, leaning back in his chair.

'Missing teeth and broken limbs?' Cam asked. 'Those are the same injuries found on our victim…'

'Someone's trying to frame Sweets for murder…' Booth concluded.

'Well, we need to find them.' Brennan said simply.

'Right. You guys keep working the body; tell us if you find anything. Cam, I've given the hospital your number, let us know when you hear anything about Sweets. Brennan, you're with me.' Booth announced.

'Where are we going?' Brennan asked.

'Same as we always do. We're going to find information. We need to find out what happened to Dante Masters after he left public attention, and we need to find any possible links to…' Booth turned to Hodgins and made a spinning hand movement as he tried to recall what the entomologist had said before. '… ritualistic, cult-y sacrifice.'

'We could start with Caroline Masters.' Brennan suggested. Booth nodded and stood.

'Poor Sweets.' Angela whispered, her voice sad.

'Yes.' Dr Wyatt agreed. 'Poor Dr Sweets indeed.'


	5. Chapter 5

Author's note: Sorry for the late update. I got my exam results through and discovered that I didn't do so well as was predicted, so I had to re-plan my next moves as I can't get into the career I originally wanted to… oops…

Chapter 5

Booth and Brennan headed to the FBI building, where Brennan waited outside Booth's office as Booth changed into drier clothes. Brennan was able to quickly fix her own appearance, so the partners looked professional again.

Instead of calling Caroline Masters in for questioning, the FBI agent and the forensic anthropologist drove to meet her at the hotel she was staying at for the duration of the case.

The hotel was small, a fairly cheap looking, Booth marched up to the front desk, flipped out his badge and said

'Agent Booth, FBI. Could you tell me where Caroline Masters is staying?'

The desk clerk looked slightly scared, and stammered as he checked the online data log.

'Room 202. T-top cor-corridor. Elevator is over th-that way.' The young man pointed. Booth flashed him a smile and said 'Thank you', while Brennan gave the young clerk a truly disparaging look.

'Be nice Bones.' Booth hissed as he led Brennan away from the desk and towards the elevator.

'Well I just don't see why he's so…' She stopped, noticing Booth signalling to lower her voice, and then carried on, this time whispering. '… tetchy.'

'Some people don't like the FBI.' Booth whispered as the couple got into the elevator, and Booth hit the button for the 2nd floor. The doors closed and a slightly awkward silence filled the small elevator compartment. Booth coughed nervously as the elevator started moving.

'I don't see why you can't stand silence.' Brennan commented.

'It's just… boring.' Booth replied.

'I don't see how silence is boring…'

'Well that's because you're a sciencey person Bones. Me? I'm a doing person. I like to do things.'

'I like to do things. I like working on cases…'

The lift came to a stop and the doors pinged open. The partners left and headed directly down the short corridor ahead of them, checking the numbers on the rooms as they went.

'199, 200, 201, ah! Here it is! Room 202!' Booth said, grinning at Bones as he knocked on the door.

'I still like to do things too.' Brennan commented, positioning herself next to Booth, who had his hands clasped in front of him.

The door opened and Caroline Masters peered out into the hallway.

'Agent Booth!' She exclaimed, surprised but smiling.

Booth bowed his head in greeting.

'Miss Masters, I trust we can come in?' He asked motioning into the hotel room.

'Of course. What's this about?' Caroline asked, moving to one side to allow the partners to pass.

Booth and Brennan stepped into the small hallway.

'We'd like to talk to you about Dante Masters.'

Caroline froze. And slowly closed the door with a click. She sighed deeply and held out a hand, showing Brennan and Booth into the small hotel room. She pointed out two chairs for them to sit at, and took a seat on the end of the bed.

'I told you.' She started. 'I told you what I think, and I told you what I know. Dante was a… difficult child.' She couldn't make eye contact as she said it.

'You see, Miss Masters, you say that as though you don't entirely mean it…' Booth interrupted. Caroline glared at him suspiciously before continuing.

'With everything that was done to him, I can only assume that it was him who killed Philip. For revenge. It had to be him.'

'What makes you so sure?' Booth asked.

Caroline's shoulders relaxed as she seemed to lose an inner conflict with herself.

'I'm not.' She said quietly.

'So why did you tell the FBI that you were sure that it was Dante?' Booth continued, pressing for a further understanding.

Caroline Masters looked on the verge of hysterics, but managed to hold her composure. She looked up at agent Booth, her eyes filling with tears.

'Because I hated the little brat. Or because I want to hate him, or something. Because I hated that I did nothing, and I hated the fact that one stupid little boy made me so guilty, made me loathe my brother so much.' She whispered, her voice was low, angry and consumed with emotion.

'Miss Masters, did you know what your brother was doing?' Booth questioned.

Caroline paused; it took her a very long time to answer. She looked up to the ceiling as though asking for some inner strength. The tears dripped steadily down her cheeks.

'Yes.' She looked up at Booth, who narrowed his eyes. 'I will regret it until the day that I die, but I knew. I… I was visiting, a yearly visit… Dante must have been…' She calculated it on her fingers. 'Three. Maybe four. When Pip, I mean Philip, first adopted Dante I was so happy. We were orphans, and to see my brother, the brother who had raised me, taking care of something else was wonderful. But… His punishment methods always seemed a little severe; leaving a screaming baby and refusing to feed it for days because it had crawled into something, but I never thought my brother was capable… was capable of being such a … monster. You know? The signs were there, but I never caught on.' Caroline plucked a tissue from a box on a table next to a bed. She blew her nose and dabbed at her eyes.

'They didn't like me visiting, so we kept it to once a year. Then… then when I visited… I wondered where Dante was. I asked, and Pip said that he was playing in his room. But it was so quiet. Something happened and Sophie, Pip's wife, hurt her wrist and had to be taken into hospital. She and Pip just left, didn't warn the kid or anything. I… I went upstairs to tell him that his parents were gone… I knocked on his door. There was no response. So I went inside.' Her voice dropped into monotone as she remembered what happened next. She stared blankly ahead at the floor, Booth reached out to touch her shoulder reassuringly, but the woman took no notice.

'The room was so empty, there was just a small red car in the centre of the floor… and a cage. Chicken wire. I will never forget the look on that child's face; it was so blank, just accepting of everything. He had his fingers poked… poked through the chicken wire… reaching for the car. It was just out of reach. His eyes… his eyes were blackened, bruised, his hair matted, long and his lips bleeding. The clothes he wore were miles too big, tied on, he was so small. So very very tiny.' She looked up at Booth.

'I opened the cage and took him out. I just held him for what seemed like ages, he could hardly talk, just shivered and asked me who I was. And I told him, and… I told him I'd go back. That I'd take him away from everything, and that everything would… would be okay.'

'And did you take him out?' Brennan asked.

Caroline shook her head.

'I got out of the house, and I ran. I was too scared. I just ran, and never looked back.' The tears had stopped. She just appeared blank.

'Why didn't you report your brother?' Brennan questioned accusingly.

Caroline looked up at the forensic anthropologist, she looked so tired.

'He was my brother. He raised me, I couldn't do that to him. I never went back though. The last time I saw Pip, or Sophie for that matter, was Christmas in jail. But I still can't see him the same.' She sighed. 'I love him, but I hate him so much at the same time.'

'Why did you ask the Jeffersonian to investigate this case?' Booth asked, changing the subject. He seemed slightly shaken and angry at the story he'd just heard.

'What?' Caroline asked, she was confused by the topic change. 'Because you're the best. I don't see how this is releva…'

Brennan cut her off with another question.

'What do you know about Lance Sweets?'

Caroline bowed her head.

'He's Dante. Isn't he?' She whispered.

'Yes. So you can see why we think you had a motive for asking specifically for the Jeffersonian.' Booth stated.

Caroline shook her head.

'I honestly had no idea. I never expected to see him again. I must have come across as so rude to him, I was so shocked to find him there. He clearly never forgave me.' She said sadly. 'That was him?'

Brennan nodded.

'I knew it. The eyes, the same eyes. He's grown up so much. Is he good at his job? Is he a good person? Good life? Is he happy? Can I see him? Can I speak to him? Please? You have got to let me make this right… I…' She stopped, noticing the look on Booth's face. 'What's the matter?'

'Swee… Dante, tried to kill himself earlier today.' Booth said monotonously.

'What?' Caroline exclaimed, staring from Booth to Brennan, wide eyed and scared. 'No! No, it can't be… It isn't my fault? He tried to… Oh God!!!' She clapped her hand over her mouth in shock, the tears started again.

Brennan placed a hand reassuringly on Caroline's knee.

'No. We don't think it was your fault.' She whispered softly.

'Miss Masters, is there any reason to think that someone might want Dante dead if they found him?' Booth asked.

'No… well… only Philip or Sophie. I think they had friends, so maybe one of them… wait, was he threatened? Is he okay? Please tell me what's going on!' Caroline was distraught.

'We believe that someone has found out who he is. Do you have any contact details for Sophie Masters?' Booth enquired.

Caroline's face went sharp. 'No. I have nothing to do with that bitch.' She snapped.

'I understand.' Brennan said. Booth shot her a look.

'Do you have any contact details that may be of use to us?' He asked Caroline.

'Umm… you could try the care home he was at… I think I have the address…' She fumbled in her purse and handed Booth a small phone book, flicking through the pages until she found the page. 'I kept the details… just in case I ever had the guts to go and see him.'

Booth and Brennan noted the address and phone number and stood.

'Caroline Masters, thank you very much for your time…' Booth began.

Caroline grabbed hold of his jacket, pulling him back.

'Wait!' She cried, desperately. 'Will he be okay?'

Brennan glanced at Booth. 'Miss Masters, Sweets is a very dear colleague of ours, we're just as upset over this as you. We'll let you know as we know.' She said.

'Will I be able to see him?' Caroline asked.

'If he agrees and under supervision, yes.' Booth said reassuringly. Caroline released her grip on his suit, tears dripped down her face as her eyes moved frantically as she tried to make sense of what was going on.

Booth and Brennan headed to the door and opened it. Just before they left, Booth glanced back to the distraught woman sitting on the end of the bed.

'If it helps, Sweets is an excellent psychologist, and a truly good man.' He said.

Caroline looked up at him. 'Thank you.' She smiled.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Booth and Brennan climbed back into the car, Booth looked at the scrap of paper with the address in his hand, and checked his watch. It was early evening; the sky was starting to turn orange and grew slowly darker.

The partners turned to face each other, both appeared tired and Brennan had tears starting in the corner of her eyes.

'Sweets should be awake by now.' She said. 'But Cam hasn't phoned, what do we…'

She was interrupted by her phone ringing. She answered it almost immediately.

'Brennan. Hi Cam!' She smiled hopefully at Booth, who sat upright listening carefully and wishing silently for good news.

'Any news on Sweets?' Brennan asked. Booth watched as her face fell at the response. But Brennan's expression gradually changed from disappointment, to confusion, to a sudden understanding.

'Thanks Cam, and good work!' Brennan finished, before hanging up and turning excitedly to Booth. 'Phillip Masters died from a heart attack. All injuries to the body were inflicted post mortem.'

Booth looked confused. 'So we know that someone is trying to frame Dante Masters. The question is, who?'

'Caroline?' Brennan suggested.

Booth considered it.

'Possibly. Where is Sweets when we need him?' He responded.

'Unconscious in a hospital bed?' Brennan replied.

'I didn't mean it literally Bones…'

Booth started up the engine, took one last glance at the address of the child's care home and began to set off.

'Wait, Booth, how is this going to help in anyway?' Brennan asked.

'If we can find everyone involved, we can try and find who might want Sweets dead. Get all the facts, Bones, then we can try to solve the case.'

Brennan nodded at this advice, it seemed sound enough.

The journey to the care home was silent. Neither Booth nor Brennan said a word, and they seemed almost relieved to arrive finally. The door to the care home opened and they were greeted by a small, very smiley, very plump woman with greying hair and square glasses. Booth flashed his badge and she welcomed them in graciously. After briefly explaining what they were there about, Booth and Brennan were directed to a woman in her mid forties. Just as Caroline Masters had done, the woman seemed to grow old, tired and sad at the mention of Dante Masters.

'Look, I'm very busy. I've got to clean up, put the kids to bed and file away papers.' The woman snapped. She was not being helpful.

'Mrs…' Booth paused, trailing off.

'Spencer.' The woman finished for him. 'And it's Miss, not Mrs.'

'Mrs Spencer, I hope that you realise that this is a full FBI investigation and I will require your full cooperation.' Booth stated.

'And I will give you my full cooperation. I'm just not happy about it.' Miss Spencer responded curtly.

Booth relaxed, Brennan shot him a glance that told him that this woman was irritating her.

Booth started with a general opening question. 'What do you know about Dante Masters?'

Miss Spencer sighed deeply.

'That kid broke my heart. He was a good kid, and no-one should be treated like that. Woke up every night screaming blue murder. Never let anyone near. Flinched every time you raised your hand and never spoke to another child. He pushed Timothy Gutterman down the stairs for poking fun. Broke the kids spine, poor Timmy's stuck in a wheelchair. We didn't think he'd ever get out of here. Then the Sweets turned up, nice couple, looking to save someone. We thought they looked a bit old to adopt, but they had credentials, experience of working with special care children and a good, quiet home. No other children. It seemed to work out; last I heard Dante was doing alright. Smart kid that one, I hope he made it into education.'

'Do you know of anyone who might want him dead?' Booth asked.

'Want Dante dead? No-one. 'Cept maybe his original parents.' Miss Spencer shuddered. 'If you want to know more about who might, you may want to try contacting John Blackmoore. He was the police officer who first found Dante and he never lost contact. He never saw Dante after he came here, but he always made sure the kid was safe. Now Agent Booth, Dr Brennan, will that be all? I'm already running ten minutes late for bedtime.'

Booth seemed surprised at her brashness, but he thanked her and told her they'd be in touch. He left and Dr Brennan followed. They sat in the car wondering what the next move would be.

'Back to the FBI.' Booth said, speaking his thoughts aloud. 'We'll find the contact details for John Blackmoore and take it from there.'

Brennan nodded. Booth's phone rang.

'Booth.' He answered, and glanced up at Brennan, suddenly breaking into a grin.

'Sweets! It's good to hear your voice!'

Brennan pawed at Booth's arm and told him to put the phone on loudspeaker, mouthing that she wanted to talk to Sweets immediately. Booth pressed a button and lay the phone down next to the steering wheel. Sweets' voice sounded gruff and strained, slightly hoarse, like he had a sore throat. He coughed periodically.

'Dr Brennan, Agent Booth, I should probably thank you for…'

Brennan interrupted angrily.

'Don't you dare thank us Dr Sweets! And don't you dare do anything like that again. If you're a part of a team selfishness will not be tolerated!'

'Umm… Dr Brennan? A little sympathy for the hurt psychologist?' Sweets tried, a little taken aback by being shouted at.

'No Sweets. No sympathy. You deserve everything you get. I think you're a complete idiot for what you tried.' Brennan shouted back. Booth jumped.

'Whoa… calm down Bones.' He said, still grinning.

'Thank Dr Brennan.' Sweets backed down, slightly sarcastic.

'Bones has a point there Sweets. You're an idiot.' Booth stated, his tone suddenly serious.

'Whoa whoa! Is this some kind of 'gang up on Lance' moment?' Sweets said defensively. Then gave a pathetic cough as his voice cracked.

'Sweets we were worried. And should you really be talking?' Booth asked.

'No. I shouldn't.' Sweets responded, he sounded slightly disappointed. Like a schoolboy caught with a packet of cigarettes.

'So go back to bed like a good little boy. Sleep well and let the adults get on with their job. Be careful and when you're discharged, come immediately to my office. Do you understand? You go no-where else!' Booth half shouted. Sweets coughed again and Booth hung up the phone. He grinned at Brennan.

'Sweets is okay.'


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Booth and Brennan arrived at the FBI building about fifteen minutes later. Booth was the first to walk into his office, so he was the first to notice a small black envelope on his desk. Brennan looked quizzically at the black folds of paper as Booth opened the envelope. He removed a small white card with a single line of writing on the back;

'You will never see him again.'

Booth threw the card into his pocket and pushed past Brennan on his way out of the office. Brennan paused, unsure if she should follow or not.

'We need agents at the hospital now.' He shouted. He bumped into Cam in the corridor. She'd been looking for him.

'Booth what's wrong?' She asked as they collided.

Booth grabbed her shoulders, a panicked look across his face.

'Where's Sweets?' He asked, practically shouting.

Cam blinked confusedly. 'He phoned about ten minutes ago. He said he could leave and would meet us back at your office…' She noticed the look on Booth's face change from fear to horror. 'What?' She finished.

Booth handed her the piece of paper. She read it and her eyes widened.

'Shit.' She whispered.

Brennan appeared beside Booth. She saw the two fearful faces.

'What's going on?' She asked.

'They've got Sweets.' Booth replied in a monotone. Then snapped into action, pointing and shouting at random agents.

'You! Get to the hosp…'

A familiar voice spoke from behind him as a hand reached out to tap Booth's shoulder.

'Agent Booth what's going on?'

Booth turned to find Sweets directly behind him, having just stepped out of the elevator. He was wearing jeans and a black tee shirt, which only proved to make him look younger.

Booth visibly relaxed, and Cam sighed, relieved.

'Sweets! What the hell are you doing?' Booth started, his fear and relief turning into anger.

Sweets was slightly taken aback. He raised his arms defensively.

'You told me to get to your office as soon as I was discharged.' Sweets responded, his voice still croaky. A look of concern flashed across his face. 'Agent Booth, what's going on?' He repeated his original question.

Booth ignored it again. 'Do you have any idea on what you've put me and Bones through?' He shouted.

Brennan interrupted. 'Booth!' She hissed warningly. Sweets stared at Booth his eyebrows raised slightly.

'What?' Booth snapped at Brennan.

'You sound like you're his father…' Brennan pointed out.

There was a silence as everyone turned to look at Booth.

Booth calmed down slightly as he realised he was being needlessly silly.

'Sweets, get to your office and stay there. It's under constant observation. Do not leave without first consulting me and go only when I come to collect you.' His voice was still angry, but he was controlling it. Sweets made a noise as if about to protest, but Booth stopped him.

'No. You are not going home. Me and Bones will pick up some clothes or something for you. But you are staying here. Do you understand?' Booth's tone was scarily serious.

'Booth what's going on?' Sweets asked again.

'You're in trouble.' Came the reply.

Sweets paused, considering this for a moment. 'I know.'

'Good.' Booth said. Smiling finally. He motioned in the direction of Sweets' office, and Sweets left.

Cam watched him go. 'Does anyone even know why he did what he did yet?' She asked quietly, but the question was rhetorical because she turned quickly back to Booth.

'Right. Booth. Anyway. A man called John Blackmoore turned up earlier. He said he was looking for you. He left a number.' She held out a small scrap of paper.

'Thanks Cam.' Booth said. 'Why did you come all the way over here to tell me that? You could have emailed.'

'Yes. But Sweets said he was getting to your office and I wanted to check on him. I was worried about him.' Cam replied.

'Worrying about Sweets is a pointless waste of our time. He's an adult and he's perfectly safe here.' Brennan cut in. Cam turned to her.

'Yes. But he's also just attempted suicide for reasons we're still unsure of and there is some sort of evil person from his past trying to catch him and kill him. I think my concerns are valid Dr Brennan.'

Brennan considered this fact, and nodded. She turned to where Booth had previously been standing, only to find that Booth was now on the phone, looking down at the little scrap of paper. He walked into his office and closed the door. Clearly he was not to be disturbed.

Brennan regarded this with some annoyance, which Cam immediately picked up on.

'Do you want to go for coffee quickly?' she asked.

'Sure.' Brennan smiled.

Meanwhile Sweets kicked back to lie on the sofa in his office. He squished the foam sumo absentmindedly. His throat burned and his head pounded. He felt sick and couldn't quite suppress the nervous fear feeling within his chest.

There was a knock on the door and Sweets sat up. Dr Gordon Wyatt smiled through the glass of the door. Sweets swung his legs off the sofa and opened the door.

'Dr Wyatt.' He exclaimed cheerily.

'Dr Sweets! Might I come in?'

Sweets motioned for Wyatt to step into the room and offered him a seat on the sofa. Sweets himself took a seat on his chair.

'Now then Dr Sweets, your actions this morning were a little brash and silly, don't you agree?' Wyatt asked, watching Sweets curiously over the top of his nose.

Sweets bowed his head slightly ashamed.

'I will admit to acting without full thought to the consequences.' He said quietly.

'Why?' Wyatt asked.

Sweets looked up. He narrowed his eyebrows trying to make sense of the question, slightly annoyed.

'Why?' He copied Wyatt. 'Why? Why do people do anything stupid? Because they're scared. Or, or because they're wicked under stress…'

Wyatt interrupted him.

'And are you, Dr Sweets, as you put it, 'wicked under stress'?'

'Yes! There's someone threatening me and apparently trying to kill me…'

Wyatt interrupted again.

'So surely it makes no difference whether you try to kill yourself or just hang around. Hm? If you attempt to bring about your own death, the chances are that you will die. But, if you trust Booth and try to fight it out, don't you think you might be able to live instead?'

Sweets shook his head.

'You know what? No! No I don't think it's a better idea! This guy who's after me? He's meant to be, like, dead. Dead as in stoney cold on the autopsy table right now, but he's somehow managing to get to me. Still. And…' Sweets tailed off, shaking his head in distress.

'Dr Sweets! Please pull yourself together! Don't you think that you are projecting the childhood fantasies of your foster-father onto this entire situation? Surely you can see how silly it is to give a mere mortal these super-powers where they can achieve anything and catch you in your sleep? We are not dealing with the bogey-man!' Wyatt exclaimed.

Sweets went quiet. He listened to everything that Dr Wyatt was saying, and although it was logical, it made little sense to him.

Angela's face appeared at the door. Sweets moved as though about to stand, but Dr Wyatt stood instead and walked to the door. He opened it. Angela looked worried.

'Hello Miss Montenegro.' Wyatt greeted.

'Um, hey. I came to see if Sweets is okay?' Angela asked, peering over to Sweets.

'He certainly is.' Wyatt said smiling and stepping aside to let Angel through. Sweets blinked in disbelief. This was all getting a bit much for him.

'Hey. Look, sweetie, just because things get tough doesn't mean you can just cop out on us like that.' Angela said, moving to sit on the sofa. Dr Wyatt smiled and left, bumping into Hodgins on the way out.

'Hey, is Sweets in there?' Hodgins asked. Wyatt nodded.

Hodgins entered the room and stood at the back.

'You okay man?' He asked the psychologist.

Sweets shook his head gently, his eyebrows raised and his eyes sad.

'No, not really.' He admitted.

Angela reached out and patted his knee.

'Look, it'll be okay Sweets. You've seen what Booth can do, this'll all be over before you know it.' She smiled reassuringly.

'Yeah, and dude, don't scare us again.' Hodgins added.

Sweets sighed, and yawned deeply. He was really tired. Angela noticed and said goodbye, quietly leaving the room. Hodgins left a couple of minutes later, leaving Sweets staring tiredly at the wall in front of him. He shifted back onto the sofa and closed his eyes, gradually drifting into a disturbed, dream-filled sleep.

The nightmares reached a horrific climax and Sweets woke suddenly. He was drenched in sweat and his backed ached horribly. His throat was dry and sore and tears from the dream had made his face wet. He had been plagued by the face of his foster-father in dreams since he was a child, but this one was more vivid than the rest. More of a memory. The voice was so real, and the blood, the pain the clown…

Sweets shook his head. He knew he was being silly. It was a dream. A stupid dream. But it felt like reality. He checked his watch. It was 2:00am. He'd been asleep for several hours without realising. He wondered how the blanket that was covering him had got there, and then noticed bags full of his stuff at his feet. Clearly Booth and Brennan had been in.

A noise startled him, and Sweets let out an involuntary yelp. He was still shaking. Gradually his tired mind created an spooky situation that freaked him out. Sweets realised that he was now hiding under the blanket and acting like a child. He reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone and pathetically dialled Booth's number.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

The phone rang, and kept ringing. It eventually went to voice mail. Sweets sighed and figured it was probably for the best. He couldn't be such a child and treating Booth and Brennan like his carers seemed like a very stupid thing to do.

Unable to get back to sleep, and too scared to close his eyes, Sweets turned, booted up the computer and loaded a 'shoot 'em up' computer game.

Light gradually shone through the window, starting as a dim orange glow, and then climbing until the sun streamed in through the blinds. A knock on the door startled Sweets and he peered through the glass to see Agent Booth standing outside.

Yawning, Sweets opened the door to let him in. Much to his surprise, Parker ran straight into the office and picked up the squishy sumo and began playing.

Sweets gave Booth a questioning look.

'Seeing as you're here all day, and you can't work, I thought I'd give you something to do.' Booth said, motioning to Parker. Parker waved, beaming happily.

'I figured you wouldn't mind, seeing as you are now comfortable enough around me to phone at four am in the morning.' Booth continued, his tone was slightly sarcastic and slightly threatening. 'I'll pick him up at around fivish and then you and I need to talk.' Booth said, and left Sweets' office.

'What's this?' Parker asked, still playing with the sumo.

'It's a squishy sumo.' Sweets replied, yawning tiredly again and taking a seat opposite Parker.

'So Parker. How are you?' Sweet's asked, too tired to really think how to communicate with a six year old. Parker smiled and opened his rucksack to take out models of the teenage mutant ninja turtles.

Meanwhile Booth was sitting with Brennan in her office discussing the case at hand. He explained how John Blackmoore had informed Booth of the conditions that he had found Dante Masters in and how he had sent Booth the online file containing videos of all the meetings between Dante and the child psychologist. Booth called for Dr Wyatt as he prepared to open the file on the computer.

When Wyatt arrived, Booth asked him to analyse the videos of Sweets' psychology sessions. At first Wyatt complained, stating that they would need Sweets' permission, but Booth pointed out that he had a warrant to view the films, and that this in Sweets best interest. The screen flickered into life.

_A young Sweets age about six stands next to a green chair looking at the floor and shifting his feet awkwardly, avoiding looking at the psychologist across from him. The room is brightly coloured, full of toys and cushions. There is a collection of soft toys to the left of the young Sweets, but he is ignoring them._

_The psychologist has a nameplate, 'Dr Hawkins' in front of him. He eyes the young Sweets nervously. The boy in front of him is badly slouched, his hair is long and knotted and he looks awkward and frail in donated clothes that are clearly too big for him. One of his arms is strapped in a blue sling across his chest, and the other is completely hidden by the huge, red sleeves of his jumper and his trousers are folded up at the bottom. The picture quality is not too good, but it's clear enough. The boy's face is hidden as he stares at his feet. _

'_You're looking much better Dante.' The doctor tries. The boy does not respond._

'_It's good to see you standing on yourself. Does it feel good to have the plasters off your legs?'_

_The boy nods once._

'_It's a shame about your wrist though, just healing and you fell down the stairs again.' The doctor is rabbiting on, trying to establish a connection with the statue-like boy before him._

'_Would you like to sit down?' He asks, motioning to the green chair. The boy sits down very quickly, as though frightened he's offended the doctor. His movements are erratic, and look as though he perceives himself to be in trouble._

'_It's okay Dante, no-one is going to hurt you.' The doctor says reassuringly. Dante cradles his injured arm and rocks slowly on the chair, drawing his knees up to his chest. _

_The doctor tries a different approach._

'_Would you like a toy?' He asks. The boy scans the room quickly, then looks as though he feels embarrassed and quickly looks back at the desk. He glances once more to a blue car in the corner of the room._

***

Back in Sweets office.

'Daddy told me that you were in trouble and he said that I have to look after you. So I brought the ninja turtles to help. You can be Leonardo if you want.' Parker said, handing Sweets the turtle with the blue bandana. Sweets accepted the toy, wondering what to do with it, but Parker was already making Michaelangelo run up and down the coffee table while making whooshing noises. Sweets shrugged and copied.

Sweets and Parker had been playing 'teenage mutant ninja turtles' for quite a while. It was mainly Parker playing and Sweets half-heartedly watching him. Parker suddenly got bored and sat cross legged on the sofa watching Sweets. The psychologist in turn leaned forwards and watched Parker.

Growing bored, the six year old started bouncing and looking around the room around him.

'Why don't you have any pictures in you office? My daddy has lots of pictures in his office.' Parker asked.

Sweets was about to respond, but Parker carried on with his office critique.

'And why are there two sofas? How come there's a sheet on the floor? Why is there a spare change of clothes? Do you have any chocolate? Can I have a drink? Why is the sky blue?'

Eventually Sweets snapped in his over-tired state, trying not to raise his voice but sounding very pained nonetheless, he shouted at Parker to shut up. Parker froze and hung his head. He looked as though he was about to burst into tears. Sweets immediately felt bad an apologised. After about ten minutes sitting in awkward silence, Parker looked up at Sweets.

'Dr Sweets, did your parents ever hit you?'

Sweets froze.

_'Dante, have your parents ever hit you?' Dr Hawkins leaned forwards over the front of his desk. He looked concerned. Dante stayed totally still. He refused to answer._

_'Dante, we need to accept what happened so we can move past this. You need to talk about this.' Dr Hawkins said. Dante shook his head and sniffed loudly, looking to the ceiling. Freckles line his cheeks and there is a scar with stitches healing along the side of his face._

'Yes, but only when I was naughty.' Sweets lied in response.

'My daddy says it's wrong. He says you shouldn't hit children no matter how bad they've been.' Parker replied.

'Your dad is right Parker. You don't hit kids.' Sweets said.

'So why did your parents hit you Dr Sweets? Were you very naughty?' Parker asked.

'Yes, I must have been.' Sweets said, his mind elsewhere.

_'We're going to need you to make a statement to the police Dante.' Dr Hawkins told the boy in front of him._

_'I don't want to.' Dante whispered._

_'You want your parents put away forever, right?' The doctor asked him. Dante nodded. 'Then you have to be brave. You can do this. You can stop them ever hurting anyone ever again.'_

_Dante started crying. 'But they'll come back for me!' He sobbed._

_'Listen to me Dante. You're safe now. They'll never come back, understand? You're safe. You won't be hurt anymore. You just need to make a statement into this recorder and it will all be over. No more hitting, no more whips, knives anything. You're free. You didn't deserve anything that happened to you. You're not a bad child Dante, do you understand me?'_

_'So why did they hurt me?' Dante asked quietly._

_'I don't know. But it was wrong and it won't happen again.' The doctor promised him._

Booth turned off the screen and turned to Wyatt.

'Do we need to talk to Hawkins?' he asked.

'I should think not Agent Booth. The man seemed to be genuinely trying to help, and I doubt he would want to revisit the case.' Replied Wyatt.

'What actually happened to Sweets? Why won't he discuss it?' Brennan asked, looking to Wyatt for one of his 'useless' psychological explanations.

'Dr Brennan, one cannot simply raise issues from a child's past in order to piece it together! You risk damaging the child further. They must be willing to speak about it. Judging from these videos I would say it is very likely that Dr Sweets never actually discussed his experience. Which might be why he reacted to badly to the news that his parents are back.' Wyatt responded.

'So you're saying that what Sweets went through might not be as bad as we first think?' Brennan asked.

'On the contrary!' Came the reply. 'I'm not inferring anything of the sort! I'm just suggesting that this is an area that Dr Sweets have never really discussed, which makes the entire situation harder for him to handle.'


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Five o'clock came and left and Sweets was still watching over Parker. The awkward conversation about Sweets and his past had finally dissipated, and Parker was now just chanting the words 'I'm bored' over and over.

Finally Booth arrived. He knocked on the glass window of Sweets office and Parker ran over to hug his dad shouting 'Daddy!'

'Hey Parker!' Booth greeted his son; picking him up and whirling him round like a plane. Parker laughed loudly as Booth returned him to the floor.

'Dr Brennan's outside. Go and say hello.' Booth told Parker, patting him on the head.

'Yay! Dr Brennan!' Parker shouted as he ran from the room. Booth closed the door quietly.

'Heeeey Sweets.' He said, grinning playfully. Sweets eyed him carefully.

'What do you want?' The psychologist asked.

'Well theres…' Booth stopped, a mildly confused look on his face. 'How'd you know I wanted something?'

'Well you see Agent Booth, I'm a trained psychologist. I have special training.' Sweets grinned.

'Had a good day?' Booth asked, eyeing the teenage mutant ninja turtle mess on the floor.

'Yeah, Parker was totally awesome.' Sweets smiled. 'Now what do you want?'

'Well Sweets, there's this woman who would really like to talk to you about something.' Booth began.

Sweets was tidying the mess.

'Do I know her?' He asked, putting Michaelangelo into Parker's backpack.

'Yes.' Booth replied, shifting nervously.

'And? Who is she?' Sweets looked up.

'Your aunt?' Booth replied. Sweets froze. Booth checked his reaction and hurriedly covered his tracks.

'She's not a suspect, we don't think she has anything to do with what's going on and she wants to apologise and talk to you. She feels guilty about her part in this and Wyatt thinks that it would be good for you…'

'What use is this to the investigation?' Sweets asked

Booth avoided eye contact.

'You don't know if she's a suspect do you? But you think that by monitoring her reaction talking to me, you might be able to strike her off the suspect list.' Sweets figured.

'Okay. But will you do it?' Booth begged.

'No.' Came Sweets' sharp reply.

'Look, Sweets. This is my investigation. I need to know why someone has sent me a mutilated body. Now either you're gonna help me, or I'm going to get you relocated to somewhere else. Do you understand?'

Sweets remained calm. He met Booth's angry gaze and responded simply.

'Agent Booth. It is not within your power to relocate me.'

'But it is in my power to appeal, saying that you've become attached and are phoning me and Bones at un-godly hours of the morning!' Booth challenged angrily.

Sweets looked annoyed. There was no way he could win this. He pursed his lips and nodded unhappily.

Booth clapped his hands together. 'Good. Well, we've redecorated the interrogation room, be down there in 10 minutes.' Booth said happily. He left the room. Sweets angrily threw the backpack onto his sofa and took a seat on his chair. He ran a hand over his hair, clearly distressed.

Within 10 minutes he was sitting in the now re-decorated interrogation room. It had been made to look like a visitors room, like the time where Booth and Brennan had been trying to figure out if two women knew each other. Sweets stood in the centre of the room. He looked into the one-way glass mirror, knowing that Wyatt and Brennan and eventually Booth would be watching him.

From behind the mirror, Wyatt was watching with some interest and concern as Sweets began to pace the room tensely.

The older psychologist turned to Booth.

'Agent Booth, I'm not entirely sure that this is a good idea…' He said, watching as Sweets sat violently on the sofa and crossed his arms defensively.

'Why ever not? Sweets needs to face his past, she wants to apologise and I want Sweets to be able to talk about what happened so that we can get some answers.'

'Agent Booth I'm not entirely…' Booth stopped Wyatt's talking with a 'shh' as Caroline walked into the interrogation room. Brennan, Booth and Wyatt watched intensely.

Sweets stiffened as soon as her saw her enter. He had his arms and legs crossed and a half frightened, half determined look on his face.

'Dante?' Caroline asked tentatively.

Sweets sighed and nodded.

'It would be appreciated if you would call me Dr Sweets, or Lance. Even Sweets would do.' He said tersely. His tone seemed slightly rude.

'Oh, right. Sorry.' Caroline apologised. She took a seat on the chair opposite him. Sweets shifted uncomfortably.

'Look… Dan-I mean Lance…' She started, and paused. Unsure of how to continue. She bowed her head. 'I'm sorry. I shouldn't have left you.'

Sweets relaxed slightly. He seemed convinced. Wyatt whispered to Booth from behind the glass; 'Sweets' body language suggests that he wants to like her. This seems to work along the history between them as I would imagine he is subconsciously searching for a link that will convince him that everything is ok.'

Booth nodded.

'I'm sorry I blamed you.' Sweets responded. But he didn't seem entirely sure.

This cheered Caroline up a little.

'So… how are you?' She tried.

Sweets smiled inwardly at the overall awkwardness.

'I've been better but seem to be pulling through. How about you?'

The conversation was depressingly formal.

'I'm well.' Caroline responded.

Booth grew bored watching them and scratched his back. 'Do you reckon she's a suspect?' He asked Wyatt. Wyatt shook his head. 'Based on her actions here, I genuinely believe that she's trying to do the right thing.'

It didn't take long for the tedious small talk to run out, and Sweets stood to show Caroline out of the room. He shook her hand and smiled. She seemed happier than he did. Closing the door as she left, he forgot the one way glass and the fact that he was being watched, and lifted his head to the ceiling, trying to force the tears that were starting in his eyes back down. He sniffed and gripped the sofa tightly; angry with himself for becoming emotional. He rested his forearms on the sofa back and leaned forwards, looking at the floor. His face was set and half angry half sad.

Booth and Brennan left the observation room but Dr Wyatt remained, watching the other psychologist with a pained look on his face. Sweets lifted his sleeve and examined the dressing on it. He shook his head angrily and punched the sofa back with force making a loud 'Thump'. Distressed, he ran both hands through his hair, pulling at it and trying to stop himself from crying out in anger. He let himself slide onto the sofa over the back and Booth and Brennan walked in.

Wyatt sighed. Sweets probably needed some time alone.

Booth fixed a cup of coffee and offered it to Sweets, who accepted it graciously. Brennan sat opposite him. Wyatt noted how twitchy she was and assumed that she was dying to ask Sweets a question but held it back.

'Sorted out any problems?' Booth asked Sweets cheerily.

'No.' Sweets said quietly.

'Looked like you did.' Booth commented.

Sweets sniffed and rubbed his injured arm. 'I'm a psychologist. I know how people work. I thought that after what she did, and after the years I spent wishing that she'd come back, an apology would make it all go away. But it hasn't. I don't get it. I get people. I don't get me.' He complained.

Booth patted his shoulder. 'No-one truly understands themselves.'

'Yes.' Brennan agreed. 'That's why psychology is a false science.'

Sweets glanced at her. 'Thank you, Dr Brennan.' He said.

'And I bet you're a psychologist, so you 'get' people, but you don't 'get' your parents.' Brennan continued. Booth hissed at her to be more considerate.

Sweets' eyes narrowed as he considered it. 'No. I don't suppose I ever really will.'

'But you must have ideas?' Brennan carried on, pushing for the information that she wanted.

Sweets shrugged.

'Sweets, you realise I have to ask you a couple of questions about this case?' Booth said.

'No time like the present.' Sweets relented. 'Fire away.'

'Was there any link to ritualistic cults or behaviour in the treatment you endured?'

From behind the glass, Wyatt felt like slapping himself in the face he was so frustrated with Booth and Brennan at this time.

Sweets laughed slightly at the question, it seemed so ridiculous.

'None at all.' He said.

'But the teeth and broken limbs? Whips are also generally considered to play a large part, tormenting with an object you desire? Like the red car and…'Brennan asked, but noticed the way that Sweets was staring at her.

'The teeth?' He asked quietly, in the same voice that he had questioned her knowledge of the scars on his back before.

'Yes. Your teeth are fake.' Brennan said as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. Booth winced, knowing Brennan was being a little insensitive.

Sweets ran his tongue across his front teeth. His face was still as though deep in thought, or shock.

Booth looked at Brennan and made eye contact tilting his head to show that she'd crossed a line.

'Sorry.' Brennan whispered. Sweets didn't respond.

'Sweets?' Booth asked quietly. He placed a hand gingerly on Sweets' shoulder.

Sweets looked down at his own hands, which were shaking.

'Hey, Sweets…' Booth said, shaking his shoulder gently. Brennan bit her lip, knowing she'd said too much.

Sweets trembled slightly as the emotions became too much for him to handle and he managed to suppress the tears. He looked upwards, mentally telling himself not to cry. Willing himself to stop being so weak. Wyatt decided it was time to intervene. He marched from the observation room into the interrogation room.

'Both of you out!' He snapped at Booth and Brennan. They glanced at each other and left. Wyatt sat opposite Sweets.

'Come now Dr Sweets. We all know that Dr Brennan forgets that other people feel things too sometimes.' Sweets smiled slightly and nodded in agreement.

'And she gets so wrapped up in what she wants to know that she forgets what everyone else thinks!' Wyatt continued. Sweets managed the emotions and tapped his hands on the sofa edge, trying to distract himself. Wyatt watched him, reasonably happy that there was not going to be an intense mental breakdown.

'You really do surprise me, Dr Sweets.' He commented.

Sweets looked at him questioningly.

'You've been through so much and always succeed in staying the strong mind.' Wyatt said.

Sweets shook his head. 'Oh no Dr Wyatt. Not meaning to criticise your professional opinion; but today I am not the strong minded, cool, calm and collected psychologist. Today I am just a very scared man trying to come to terms with a disaster around him.'

'Ah-ha!' Wyatt exclaimed, satisfied. 'At last the boy admits to difficulty!'

Sweets looked confused.

'My dear Dr Sweets. I was beginning to become quite worried about you. All this pent up, stored anger and fear and it's no wonder you tried to kill yourself yesterday! Thank goodness you can admit to fear! I was starting to fear we should remove the sharp objects from this entire building!'

Sweets smiled ashamedly and stood, knowing the conversation to be over. He thanked Dr Wyatt and left the room, closing the door after him.

The next thing Wyatt heard was a gun shot and Brennan's scream.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Wyatt hurried from the room to find Booth sitting on the floor, leaning against a wall while Sweets applied pressure to his arm. Blood seemed to be dripping from a wound on Booth's arm near his shoulder, down his arm and onto the floor.

'Did anyone see who it was?' Booth asked angrily, then winced as he tried to move and Sweets jogged his arm slightly.

'What happened?' Wyatt asked, startled.

'Someone took a shot at Sweets.' Booth explained. Wyatt looked at Booth's injured arm and raised an eyebrow suspiciously.

'Booth pushed him out of the way.' Brennan explained.

'Ah. I see.' Wyatt finished and decided it best to leave.

'You okay Bones? You screamed.' Booth asked, genuinely concerned.

'I'm fine. I was caught by surprise and involuntarily made a noise. Sorry.' She replied, as paramedics took over Sweets' job.

'Thank you.' Sweets said, but it was mainly directed at Booth, rather than the paramedics.

'Bones, I'll be back in an hour or so. Look after Sweets. Don't let him leave the labs. I don't like how close this is getting.' Booth commanded.

Brennan nodded as Booth stood to accompany the paramedics from the building.

Sweets and Brennan walked through the doors of the Jeffersonian.

'I swear you're not meant to leave your office.' Cam said disapprovingly as she saw Sweets. 'Where's Booth?' She added.

'Someone shot at Sweets and Booth pushed him out of the way. He'll be okay. It was a flesh wound. He just needs stitches.' Brennan stated in a matter of fact way. Sweets flashed a smile.

'Right. Are you okay?' Cam asked, turning her attention back to Sweets.

Sweets smiled in response. 'I am okay.' He responded truthfully. Cam grinned and clapped her hands together in a business-like manner.

'Angela has a facial of the victim. It matches all the missing person's reports so we can safely say that the body is Philip Masters. But he was not murdered.'

'Excellent!' Brennan responded and began to follow Cam towards Angela's office.

'Wait. Not murdered?' Sweets asked, trying to understand what was being said.

'Nope. He died from a heart attack.' Cam replied.

'How? He can't be that old.' Sweets responded, still confused.

'Sweets, the body suggests that the age of the victim was mid-sixties…' Cam informed him.

'That's impossible.' Sweets said. 'Can I see Angela's work?'

'Of course, but do you think it's a good idea?' Cam asked. Sweets shot her a determined look and she gave up the trying-to-protect-him idea.

The psychologist followed the pathologist and the anthropologist upstairs to where Angela was sitting at her desk. There was the face of a grey haired man with big brown eyes on the screen.

Cam motioned to the picture 'Philip Masters.' She said, watching Sweets. Sweets moved closer to the picture, squinting at it.

'No.' He said.

'No?' Angela asked.

'No.' Sweets repeated. 'That's not him.'

'What do you mean 'that's not him?' it matches all of the database records!' Angela said.

'It's not him.' Sweets repeated.

'Are you sure you haven't made a mistake?' Cam asked.

'A mistake?' Sweets responded, surprised by the question.

'Yes. Like when someone suffers a trauma and can't remember any of it. Are you sure you haven't forgotten his face?' Cam asked again, Angela watched Sweets intently.

'No mistake. That's not him. Someone's switched the records.' Sweets said again, his voice was terrified.

'Sweets, no-one can switch the records unless they're a professional…' Angela started. Sweets snapped.

'Then the records are wrong!' He shouted, spinning to face Angela.

'Are you sure?' Cam asked.

'Yes! Yes I'm sure! You want to know how I'm sure?' Sweets was shouting, his voice was raised with anger, stress but mainly fear. Cam, Brennan and Angela waited for him to finish; surprised by the usually calm psychologist's sudden outburst.

'We are talking about the man who raised me for six years! Tortured me for six years! A never ending torrent of abuse and you think I'll just forget his face? You think I don't dream about it? That it doesn't still haunt every single second of…' Sweets voice dropped suddenly to a terrified quiet. 'He's still alive. He's still out there and now he knows where I am…'

He stopped and looked pathetically at Brennan. His eyebrows rose in the centre, his huge brown eyes watching her and he bit his lower lip.

'What now?' He asked very quietly.

'Now we wait for Booth.' Brennan decided. Cam nodded in agreement and Angela looked worried.

'This is wicked scary.' Sweets stated, shaking his head. 'Let me see the picture again?' He motioned for Angela to turn the screen back to the victim's face.

'I recognise him. But I'm not sure where from.' Sweets said watching the image carefully.

'Dr Sweets, I am going to ask you to take a huge step back from this case. At least until I'm sure you're not going to fly off the handle.' Cam said, ushering Sweets from the room.

'Wow. Sorry!' The psychologist apologised. Brennan followed him.

'Dr Brennan you have been following me all day. What do you want?' Sweets asked tiredly.

Brennan paused. She knew exactly what she wanted to know, but wasn't sure how to put it. She went for the direct approach.

'What happened to you?'

Sweets smiled cheekily. 'I knew you were going to ask that.' He said, glancing at her sideways.

'Wait, you're not going to go all mopey and sad at me for asking you?' Brennan asked, stunned.

'Nope.' Sweets replied, smiling again. He turned and headed towards the table near the coffee machines.

'Why?' Brennan exclaimed speeding her pace to catch up with him.

'Because it's a perfectly legitimate question. Coffee?'

'Yes, I'd love some. The anthropologist responded as Sweets picked up a mug and turned the kettle on. He sat on one of the chairs and waited for the kettle to boil.

'Okay Dr Brennan. Here's how this is going to work. I ask you a question, you answer, then you ask me a question, and so forth.' Sweets smiled, leaning back in the chair and putting his hands on his head.

'What? No!' Brennan responded, laughing at how ridiculous the deal sounded. 'It's a child's game!'

The kettle boiled and Sweets stood up and spooned some coffee powder into each mug, added sugar, the hot water, milk and stirred it. He handed one mug to Dr Brennan and sat down again. This time, she sat down too.

'You will play because you are interested.' Sweets said, smiling and sipping the coffee.

'I won't play because it's stupid and pointless!' Brennan responded.

Sweets waved his hand and shook his head, swallowing quickly so he could respond.

'Ah, no. No it's not pointless. I am willing to bet that you've never discussed your childhood experiences, and you would do better to do so.'

'Sweets, psychology doesn't work.' Brennan replied.

'Thank you. So much.'

'It doesn't work at all. Talking things through won't make them go away. If it did, you'd have done it long ago.'

Sweets glanced at her, narrowing his eyebrows in confusion. He considered what she'd just said.

'Hmm. No. No I never spoke about it and didn't really intend to. But, I am a psychologist; I know how to handle things.' He grinned cheekily again.

Brennan snorted, suppressing a laugh.

'That's a lie.' She commented.

'Please explain.' Sweets took another sip of his coffee and placed the mug on the table, linking his hands over it and peering over the top.

'You just shouted at Angela!'

Sweets thought again.

'True. That was wrong.'

'Sweets, why are we playing this?'

'Because I've done no 'shrinking' recently, and I'm bored.' Sweets joked playfully.

'I'm not playing.' Brennan pointed out.

Sweets shrugged.

'Makes no odds to me.' He picked up his coffee and stood up, about to leave.

'Fine.' Brennan gave in. 'But I ask first.'

'Ah, see, no. We play by my rules or we don't play.' Sweets said, putting his coffee back on the table and sitting down again.

'So, Dr Brennan, what was your first thought when you found your parents had left you and your brother?'

Brennan looked annoyed at how personal it was getting. She hadn't bargained for this.

'I was angry. Scared. I didn't know why or how they'd left. I was angry with Russ just…' She sighed deeply. 'Very very confused.'

'So you felt like you weren't in control of the situation, and this annoyed and upset you?'

'My question Sweets. Not yours.' Brennan pointed out.

'Right. Sorry.' Sweets smiled nervously.

'The scars. On your back and your chest. What happened?' Brennan asked. 'I know you have them, and I told you something, but I never got a story back.'

'And a story was what you wanted when you told me about breaking dishes?' Sweets asked.

'Sweets, answer my question. Please.' Brennan sighed. Leaning forwards.

Aware that he could no longer avoid the topic at hand, Sweets gave in.

'There was no definitive time.' He shrugged, his arms crossed and his fingers crept towards his shoulder. He stared into space, his memories uncontrolled and flying forwards.

'I don't know why they did it. It was just… a hobby. Like some people play golf.' He snapped out of it and looked up and smiled but he didn't mean it. He was trying to trivialise the matter.

'So they just hit you whenever they felt like it?' Brennan asked.

Sweets bowed his head, then snapped back to reality again.

'Um, my question Dr Brennan.' He teased.

'No. No Sweets. I don't want this to be a game. I want to try to understand.' Brennan said shaking her head. Her voice was strained and she looked sad.

'Why?' Sweets asked, surprised.

'Because it's difficult for me to fully understand people, but I want to try.'

'So what? I'm your practise dummy?' Sweets asked, raising an eyebrow.

'No. But I think you need someone to care and I'm worried that you don't have anyone.'

Sweets raised both eyebrows.

'Wow. That is so unlike you Dr Brennan.' He said, shaking his head in amazement.

'So what actually happened?' Brennan asked again.

Sweets groaned and tried to think of a way to explain it without being over dramatic. It was hard to play it down, and also made him feel vulnerable and slightly embarrassed.

'Ummm… Okay, okay so yeah. When they felt like it. Pretty much. I mean the whole whip thing came into play when I was about three. Before that they stuck to pretty much just fists, blunt objects…' He scratched his head, uncomfortable.

'After that?'

'Well I was put into care just before I was six, so they didn't have that much time to do much more.' He laughed nervously.

Brennan raised an eyebrow. He saw it and swallowed hard.

'So after that it was… Well you already pointed out my teeth are fake.' He smiled sadly.

'But your adult teeth…'

'Malnourished. Never came through.'

'But how did you loose the first set of…'

'Pliers.' Sweets went suddenly quiet. He bit his lower lip.

'The scars on your chest?'

'Uh…' Sweets coughed nervously again and rubbed the top of his nose between his middle finger and thumb; stressed. He frowned and opened his mouth as if to speak, then closed it again. He was constantly avoiding eye contact.

'Hm. Okay, why not…' He whispered to himself, trying to have the guts to voice his thoughts out loud. He faced Brennan and made eye contact.

'A knife. Glass. Anything with a sharp edge. A screwdriver at one point…' He frowned and tears pricked in his eyes as he fought the inner battle of trying to understand why he was treated in that way. He forced the tears back and bowed his head. He smiled nervously up at Brennan.

'Broken bones?' Brennan started.

'I was weak. It didn't take much to do that level of damage.' Sweets said very quietly. His coffee had gone cold and he'd forgotten all about it.

Brennan reached out and touched his hand.

'I'm sorry Sweets.' She said.

Sweets smiled thankfully at her, his eyes were still sad and a curly section of hair from his fringe flopped pathetically into his eye.

'Thanks.' He whispered.

'One last question.' Brennan said. Sweets groaned.

'Why did you cut yourself?'

Sweets rubbed his injured arm.

'Old habits. Fear. Just stress release. I don't know.' He shook his head. 'I was kinda stupid.'

Brennan nodded.

Booth walked through the doors of the Jeffersonian, one arm was in a sling. He was closely followed by another man in a suit. Sweets watched this second man. He had a feeling he knew him, but wasn't sure. He and Brennan headed downstairs to meet Booth. Booth took Sweets to one side.

'Sweets, your aunt was shot dead when she left the FBI. I'm sorry.'

Sweets took the news strangely calmly.

'Okay.' He said quietly.

Booth and Sweets headed back to the new man.

'Right, this is John Blackmoore. He's agreed to help keep you safe. He's one of the best, well known for his work in protecting people. We've agreed that with people getting so close to you, we need to keep you with a constant guard, and I'm injured.' Booth introduced the man.

The man smiled at Sweets.

'Lance. I haven't seen you in ages. It's good to see how you've improved. Why, the last time I saw you, you were a small broken body shaking in a pool of his own blood and vomit.'

Brennan was taken aback and Sweets eyed the stranger now with some distaste and concern.

The man clapped him on the shoulder.

'Don't worry young man! We'll stop that from ever happening again!' He laughed heartily. Sweets winced because had clapped him a little harder than it first seemed.

'I'll stick with Agent Booth.' Sweets said, nervous about the stranger's approach.

'Don't worry, I don't bite! Much…' John said, laughing.

'Agent Blackmoore will accompany you back to the FBI building. It's okay, we'll meet you there in my office. He's safe, he's been your guardian angel. I had his records checked and everything.' Booth noted the look of concern on Sweets' face and added 'and he's taking my car which has tracking and cameras in it just in case. You'll be followed by other agents. Sweets, this guy might seem a little weird, but he's been our biggest help on this case and we think we have a lead.'

Angela headed out from her office.

'I have some new information!' She exclaimed happily.

'That's our cue to get going Lance. Let's leave the professionals to their job.' Blackmoore said, ushering Sweets to the door. Sweets left followed by the old agent.

Brennan turned to Booth.

'It's okay.' Booth reassured her. 'John Blackmoore is an excellent Agent and he was just a little excited to see Sweets all grown up. He's fine.'

Hodgins appeared.

'You guys got John Blackmoore?' He shouted. 'That's amazing! He was one of the best!'

'See?' Booth said.

'Wait…' Angela said, confused. 'THAT'S John Blackmoore?' She looked at the papers in her hands confusedly.

'I've made another mistake.'


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Booth looked up at the artist and clicked in semi-disapproval.

'Ya see Bones,' he remarked, to no-one in particular, 'this is what happens when the squints work over time on a case!'

Angela gasped, offended. 'Excuse me! I do not tend to work over time. Besides, I thought even you said that this case was 'special' and 'important'.'

'That was until we thought we had a sorted. Sweets is safe.' Booth tried to clap his hands together happily, but realised that one arm was in a sling and winced awkwardly.

'Well you've certainly cheered up!' Brennan said, also a little relieved that Sweets was going to be okay.

'Don't you guys even wanna know what mistake I made? Before you get all cocky and self obsessed?' Angela asked, playing along with Booth's good mood.

Booth opened his mouth in joke offence and motioned flamboyantly at himself with his good arm. 'Me? Cocky?' He joked, and looked at his watch, then, making an apologetic gesture 'Sorry Angela. Gonna have to take a rain check on that one you know, can't go having mistakes…' He motioned to Brennan and was about to leave when Cam stopped him.

'Hold up Seeley, if there's something we've missed, we might just want to hear about it. Go ahead Angela.'

Booth was still walking cheerily towards the door.

'Well, I'm guessing it's just a glitch somewhere, but the facial scan that I ran though the confidential FBI files…'

'Illegal Angela. You don't have clearance' Cam interrupted warningly and annoyed. 'Illegal and it may just cost you your…'

'Hear me out.' Angel continued. 'Those files say that the body we have is John Blackmoore.'

'Whoa – ho –ho!' Hodgins said excitedly. 'Which means which ever son of a bitch we're after can alter data way into the FBI system!'

Booth stopped dead in his tracks. All casually happy and cheery moods drained from him as he started to realise.

'It's impossible to change one of those files. They're checked daily… which means…' He turned, his face ashen with horror.

'Which means that wasn't John Blackmoore.' Brennan finished for him.

'But I bet I know who it was.' He said, his voice deathly quiet. He grabbed his phone and typed in a number.

'This is Special Agent Seeley Booth, I'm going to need a track on my car and an armed team following it. We believe that a Dr Lance Sweets may be being held hostage inside.' He said almost robotically down the receiver. As he hung up he hurled his phone onto the floor where it broke cleanly in two.

'SHIT!' He shouted. Stamping his foot on the floor and beginning to pace in circles.

'Whoa. Calm down man!' Hodgins tried from the balcony.

Booth ignored him.

'Seeley, it was a mistake. Everyone makes mistakes.' Cam tried in an attempt to calm him down.

'They've got him.' Booth said very quietly, turning to face Brennan imploringly. 'They've got him and they're going to kill him and it's all my fault.'

Cam turned up to Angela. 'Good work Angela. We'll pretend you did nothing wrong.'

'My pleasure.' Angela said, as she motioned to Hodgins to leave with her, so they could leave the three others in peace.

Booth was on the floor, on his knees holding his head in one hand. He was visibly shaking with rage and worry. Brennan tried to comfort him.

'Booth, over time I have come to see what you can do. You can do anything. You can save Sweets before anything happens.' The anthropologist said, trying to reassure the man who had broken in front of her.

In the background Cam was on the phone. 'Hello? Dr Wyatt, hi. This is Dr Saroyan. I'm sorry to call you out of retirement again, but we really could do with your help right now.'

* * *

Sweets was in the back of the car, nervously watching the man driving through the rear-view mirror. They had been in silence for almost ten minutes, driving at what must have been double the speed limit.

'Umm… is this really that much of an emergency? Because dude, you are driving so fast!' the psychologist tried nervously.

The man in the front of the car glanced at him from the mirrors.

'Yes. This is an emergency.' He said, smiling slightly. Sweets felt unnerved; he took his phone from his pocket.

'Mind if I phone Agent Booth?' He asked, smiling.

'I'd rather you didn't.' came the curt response. 'I find it difficult to drive when someone is one the phone.'

The car stopped abruptly. Sweets looked out the window. He had no idea on where he was.

'Um… we seem pretty lost.' He commented.

The driver turned to face him. He smiled.

'Just a short detour. We need to meet someone on route.'

'Oh… right…' Sweets sank nervously into his seat. It didn't take a trained psychologist to know something was seriously amiss. He was on a road in the middle of no-where, next to a lake, with no other cars around, with a man he didn't trust.

'So… How were things after you went to the kids home?' The man asked. His manner was friendly, but Sweets wasn't too trusting nevertheless.

'Better. Much better.' The psychologist answered truthfully.

The man turned to face him again.

'So tell me, Dante, because I am dying to know. What was it that hurt the most when you were with your first set of adoptive parents?'

Sweets shifted uncomfortable. Another car pulled up just ahead, Sweets sighed with relief.

'Looks like we have company!' He said, trying to seem cheerful.

The man in front of him laughed.

'I suppose you think that's good news for you? Well it's not. But it is good news for me…' He whipped out a gun from under the seat and pointed it at Sweets' head. His finger was on the trigger.

Sweets froze and stared down the barrel of the gun, his face the picture-book description of terror. His huge brown eyes opened widely and his mouth opened as meaningless gibberish babbled out.

'Shhhh. Now now Dante. No need to be frightened. Just do exactly what I say and no-one's gonna get hurt.' The man with the gun cooed threateningly. He altered the angle of the gun and pulled the trigger.

A bullet ripped through the sleeve of Sweets' shirt and within seconds blood was flowing out down the psychologist's arm. Sweets gasped and grabbed his arm, trying to stop the blood flow. His jaw clenched as he tried to stop himself crying out.

'Well, maybe someone is gonna get hurt a little.' The man smiled.

'What was that for?' Sweets shouted angrily.

'Never mind. Get out.' The man motioned to the door. Sweets faltered slightly, the pain stopped him wanted to move at all.

'OUT!' The man shouted, shooting and missing purposefully at Sweets' head.

Terrified, Sweets scrambled from the car, and was faced by the one person he had never wanted to see again in his life. Upon seeing this man, Sweets fell against the FBI standard issue car and slid slowly down the side. The feeling in his chest reminded him strongly of drowning, only it wasn't as peaceful.

The man grabbed Sweets roughly by the collar of his shirt and hauled him to his feet. Sweets quickly forgot the pain in his arm and stiffened. Using as many psychology tricks as he possibly could to remain in control and not fall over and start babbling like an idiot again, Sweets stood his ground and stared, unfaltering into his kidnappers eyes.

The man laughed back.

'Hey there boy.' He spat. ' Did you miss me?'

Upon hearing the man's voice again Sweets forgot all of his training to keep in control. Everything flooded back to him and he slouched, blinking away the tears that he felt sure were coming. But they never did.

Dirt from the ground was rubbed harshly into the wound on his arm to stop the bleeding and he was herded roughly into a new car, where was sat between the gunman and another huge man in the back. He was vaguely aware of someone smashing his phone and handcuffing him, but everything else was drowned out by a sense of dread and fear. This was it. He was going to die.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Dr Wyatt arrived at the Jeffersonian where he was met by Cam who led him up to Brennan's office. Once he arrived, he found Dr Brennan and Agent Booth sitting on the sofa. Neither looked happy.

'Well well well. Agent Booth, what ever is the matter?' Wyatt asked, his tone slightly patronising.

'They got him.' Booth said quietly, his voice strained. 'The people we were meant to be protecting Sweets from. They got him.'

Brennan took a deep breath to stop herself crying.

'We believe that they guessed we would find them out. Booth's car was found abandoned. There were…' She breathed deeply again, stuggling to remain emotionally detached from what she was saying. '… there were traces… of blood…' Her voice cracked on the word 'blood', '… and bullet holes in the back seats.'

Brennan bowed her head and wiped tears from her eyes.

Cam looked everywhere around the room except for the people within it; determined not to start crying. But the tears were already filling her eyes.

'I see.' Wyatt said, his voice low and concerned. 'Do you have any sort of lead?'

Brennan shook her head. Tears flowed freely down her face.

'Bones, you okay?' Booth asked, ignoring his own running nose to pass her a tissue.

'Well, and this may or may not come as a comfort to you, but judging on these people's actions in the case so far. I doubt it would necessarily be in their best interests to merely kill him and be done with it. They are likely to play it out as long as they can.' Wyatt said, trying to inspire some fight in the agent who had clearly given up in front of him.

Cam sniffed in the corner, reluctantly giving in to the tears. 'Oh god.' She whispered.

'Hmm. Yes.' Wyatt agreed sullenly. 'But, all is not lost. The upside to those torturing, life destroying bastards, please do excuse my language but I feel quite strongly on the subject at hand, is that you do have a chance.'

Booth glanced up.

'You can save him, Booth.' Wyatt encouraged.

Booth's phone rang. He recognised the number as Sweets immediately.

'Sweets?' He answered, his voice hopeful and panicked. His face dropped almost immediately.

'Booth, what's up?' Brennan asked nervously.

Booth turned his phone onto loudspeaker and placed it on the table in front of him so everyone could hear.

'Agent Booth! The stupid, naïve, trusting agent Seeley Booth! I have your boy.' The phone laughed maliciously.

A look of disgust crossed Wyatt's face and Cam watched the phone angrily. Booth was fast becoming furious.

'What do you want for him?' He shouted.

Brennan pawed again at his arm.

'Booth, Booth! They don't want anything!' She whispered.

'It's worth a shot!' Booth whispered back.

Wyatt shrugged in begrudging agreement.

The phone laughed again.

'All I want is to deliver a parcel.' The phone sneered.

Booth looked confused.

'And don't even try tracking where it came from, and definitely don't try tracking this number. The phone is destroyed, the sim card, however, is in my possession and we have made it untraceable.'

The phone hung up.

Booth looked to Cam, confused.

'Wha?' He said, half angry, half lost.

Hodgins and Angela knocked on the door and walked into the room. Angela looked nervous and worried, while Hodgins appeared intrigued. He was holding a large cardboard box. It looked quite heavy.

'Booth, this arrived for you. Private courier service. Feels pretty heavy. Hey man, I can't be your personal delivery boy! In future…' Hodgins started.

'Hodgins shut up.' Booth said, raising a hand to silence the entomologist.

'Okay man.' Hodgins said, offended.

Booth stood and approached the package which had been left on the coffee table cautiously. He lifted the cardboard at the top. Everyone stared, wondering what was happening, and dreading what they might find.

Inside was a laptop. Ready charged, with a note on top saying 'Turn me on and phone Sweets.'

'Booth…' Brennan started, unsure.

'Shh! I'm thinking okay Bones?' Booth flapped a hand in her direction angrily. He lifted the laptop out and placed in on the table. He looked up to Wyatt for an answer.

'I have no idea Agent Booth. But I suggest you follow the instructions. After all, there is no way so far that we could gain the upper hand. You'll just have to play along and hope we might find the Achilles heel of this organisation.'

Booth opened the laptop and turned it on. Immediately the screen flashed into a video-mode and he found himself staring into the face of the man he had thought was John Blackmoore.

'Ah, Booth. You've turned the computer on. Good little Agent. Now phone the number and we can talk.' The man said, the faintest and most evil of smiles flashing across his face.

Booth quickly dialled Sweets' mobile number, he watched as the impostor answered on a phone linked to various wires and signal decoders.

Hodgins watched over Booth's shoulder.

'Dude. Those are some serious gadgets and there is some serious computer know how here!'

'Hodgins, just shut up a minute could you?' Booth snapped.

'Okay. I've done what you told me to. Know what?' Booth asked the phone, turning it again to loudspeaker.

'Now you can say goodbye.' The man laughed evilly.

Booth looked up at Brennan; he was confused and worried. Brennan opened her mouth in shock and leaned forward to look at the screen.

'What have you done with Sweets?' She asked, talking louder than necessary into the phone.

'Absolutely nothing. Yet.' The man laughed into the camera.

Booth took out a piece of paper and wrote something very quickly on it. He passed it to Cam and motioned for Angela and Hodgins to read it. He then beckoned for Wyatt to join him and Brennan on the sofa watching the video.

Cam looked at the paper.

'Cam, get FBI to stream the video onto our computers. Get us a copy of everything said and done here. Hodgins and Angela, analyse the video. Look for anything that can get us a location.'

Cam nodded and left, taking Hodgins and Angela with her.

'Okay. Let me rephrase the question, scum. What do you want with him?' Brennan hissed, into the computer screen. Booth pointed to the phone, signalling that they could hear her through the phone, not the screen. But they seemed to have heard her anyway.

'What do we want? We want payback for the years Philip and Sophie had to spend in jail. Payback for the pain they suffered which killed poor Sophie. We want to finish what we started. What did we start? We started a support group. A support group for poor Mr Masters, who was given a child he did not want by a filthy circus freak. And as for calling me scum, you'll pay for that.' The man sneered again.

'Um, excuse me. If I might interject…' Wyatt said to the phone. His tone was calm and he sounded interested. 'What do you mean by poor Mr Masters? Surely he's the one who abused a child he chose to adopt?'

'Mr Masters never chose to adopt a child! The brat he raised was his own son. But the son that he never wanted in the first place.' The man said, surprised by Wyatt's apparent ignorance.

'And the circus freak?' Wyatt asked. Brennan answered him.

'Oh, Sweets' birth mother worked for a circus. She couldn't look after him so put him up for adoption.' Brennan whispered.

Booth pushed for the more pressing question. The one nearer his heart.

'What do you mean, 'say goodbye'?' he asked.

'I meant what I said. But first, say hello to Mr Masters.'

A new man appeared at the screen as the camera was apparently pointed in his direction. The new man merely laughed and the camera followed him to a chair. Sat in the chair, tied with ropes holding his arms to the sides and his feet to the legs, was Sweets. He was blindfolded and gagged.

'No…' Booth breathed, moving closer to the screen.

'Let him go!' He shouted involuntarily.

Philip Masters laughed and walked closer to the chair.

Sweets' face seemed to hold no expression, although had his eyes been visible beneath the blindfold, Wyatt knew they would be wide open. Terrified and lost.

'Oh Sweets…' Brennan whispered, putting a hand over her mouth as fresh tears started in her eyes. Booth remained stony cold. His face was set with a grim line of anger and his body was rigid with fury. It was taking all of his self control to not scream at the phone.

'Oh dear.' Wyatt said, and immediately paled as he noticed the crudely tied scrap of material around Sweets' arm that was already soaked in blood.

Philip Masters placed a phone next to Sweets' ear and whipped off the blindfold.

'Argh!' The psychologist exclaimed, muffled by the gag, as the blindfold was yanked from his head, catching on one of his ears and exposing his eyes to an uncomfortable light. He blinked wildly in confusion and the chair rattled as he tried to raise a hand to rub his aching eyes.

Just as Wyatt had suspected, Sweets looked terrified. As his eyes became accustomed to the light he looked wildly around, and as he saw the camera, he made a muffled shouting noise. He sounded angry and scared.

'Shhh.' Philip chided, placing a hand on Sweets' head. Sweets immediately fell silent and his eyes closed in some sort of internal pain and dread. His eyelids screwed together as though he didn't dare look at what ever was going to happen next.

'Sweets? Sweets!' Booth shouted down the phone. He couldn't control himself any longer.

Sweets froze as he apparently heard Booth's voice down the phone that was pressed to his ear. Philip untied the gag and Sweets spat it to the floor.

'Agent Booth? Oh my god. Agent Booth?' He shouted down the phone, very quickly and very panicked.

Brennan nodded and sniffed, tears pouring from her eyes.

Booth was not in a much better state, but he was managing to hold back the tears, although his eyes were misty and watery.

'Yes. Sweets I… I'm here.' Booth said, trying to sound reassuring, but instead he sounded panicked and unsure.

'Please say I'm dreaming. Please say I'm dreaming. Please say I'm dreaming…' Sweets repeated, absolutely terrified.

'Sweets… I'm so sorry.' Booth coughed out, and the tears started. They dripped steadily down one cheek and he lifted a hand to his head, rocking slightly on the sofa. Brennan shuffled up to him and took his hand.

'It's okay.' Sweets said.

The camera turned to Philip.

'Now say goodbye.' Philip warned the camera, which then turned back to Sweets.

Brennan shook her head imploringly.

'No… no… please don't go. Please!' Sweets whimpered.

'Sweets, I… I'm sorr…' Booth started.

'Agent Booth, please. Please don't let this be real. I could like, so totally be asleep somewhere. Just let me wake up Booth. Please.' Sweets whined. Tears were now starting in his eyes, although he was trying so hard to be brave.

Wyatt touched Booth's shoulder gently.

'Booth, I'm sorry but you are going to have to say it, or else you will regret it so much later. Trust me, as a psychologist.'

'Psychology doesn't work!' Brennan cried angrily.

'Sweets, I'm sorry.' Booth started.

'Agent Booth please…' Sweets pleaded.

'I'm so sorry Sweets. Goo… Goodbye.' Booth's voice faltered pathetically.

Booth's head flopped pathetically forwards, he stared at his feet, but brought just enough strength into himself to look up again at the computer. He instantly regretted it.

'Booth…' Sweets whispered. Lost. The tears wouldn't fall. He couldn't let them. Somehow he was able to hold on. His eyes followed the phone as it was taken from him and returned to the man behind the camera.

The phone went dead.

Booth, Brennan and Wyatt could hear the tone. One single long tone.

From the laptop screen there was a single loud thud. Sweets' eyebrows raised suddenly and his eyes snapped forwards. He gasped as Philips fist met his chest with full force, and began to double over, but he was punched again.

Brennan let out a muffled scream and buried her head in Booth's arm, where she started sobbing. Booth looked as though he was about to throw up and Wyatt looked solemnly at his feet.

Booth heard Angela and Cam scream and looked up to see Angela running past, crying hysterically. From the other room they had streamed the picture. And they had seen everything as well.

The impostor looked into the camera again.

'Well done.' He said viciously. 'Now, this camera will be on constantly, on this tripod, so you can see everything you've caused Agent Booth.'


	13. Chapter 13

_Author's note: Sorry if these are going slightly out of character. Please tell me if you have any problems with how the characters are portrayed, and I will try to alter them accordingly._

Chapter 13

Booth slammed the laptop shut. Brennan looked up from crying into his shoulder and wiped her eyes.

'I'm sorry Booth.' She said, trying to wipe the damp patch that was on his shoulder away.

'Agent Booth, could I have a word?' Dr Wyatt asked.

'Not now Gordon Gordon!' Booth snapped.

'Actually Agent Booth, I believe that now would be the ideal time. Dr Brennan, if you could excuse us?'

'Bones, could you give us a minute?' Booth said quietly.

'Okay.' Brennan said, surprisingly without a fuss. She left to find Angela.

Dr Wyatt closed the door after her.

'Now, look here Agent Booth. This case, I'm afraid, is going to take its toll on quite a few of you, and you must realise that Dr Brennan is going to rely on you to stay strong.' Wyatt said, pacing back across the room and sitting opposite Booth.

'Bones is just fine at keeping herself detached, Gordon Gordon.' Booth replied.

'Ah, but you see I fear you might be wrong there. She most certainly does not seem to be acting her usual detached self. Hmm?'

'None of us are going to find it easy to stay our working selves.' Booth said. His tone was slightly annoyed .

'I am very well aware of that fact Agent Booth.' Dr Wyatt said. 'Now, I'm afraid that I must retire off home to shake these ghastly few hours from my existence in the untouchable bliss of sleep.' The psychologist added, standing up and walking to the door.

'Oh, and Agent Booth?' He added as he left. 'I'm sure you can come up with something to save young Dr Sweets.'

Hodgins appeared at the door. He looked as though the life had been drained from him.

'Well, it looks like there's now going to be just a marathon of abuse that I'd rather not watch.' The entomologist started.

'Yeah yeah yeah, I know that bit. If you're here to make me feel worse, get out. If you have anything of interest, speak and get to the point.' Booth snapped angrily.

Hodgins sighed.

'The place they're keeping Sweets looks like some sort a warehouse. Disused, probably for the last ten years.'

'That it Hodgins? We need more than just looks like!' Booth shouted and threw a cushion at Hodgins' head. Hodgins headed out, but just before he left, he turned back to Booth.

'I'm sorry Booth.' He said sadly.

* * *

Angela and Brennan were sitting on the sofas, both with a cup of coffee in their hands.

'Do you think we should actually watch though? You know, it's like… I dunno. We owe him some company?' Angela asked, looking dejectedly into her coffee.

'He wouldn't know if we were or weren't.' Brennan replied in a monotone.

Cam joined them.

'We can't get a lead off the video.' She explained sadly.

'Oh God. And just to think that he's out there going through hell and we're just sitting here, doing nothing. I just feels so wrong!' Angela complained.

'Sweets will be okay.' Brennan said after some consideration.

Cam and Angela looked at her surprised.

'How'd you come up with that one?' Angela asked.

'I've been thinking about it, and the only logical conclusion is to say that he's fine, and keep working until we can get somewhere with this.' Brennan stood.

'Dr Brennan, where are you going?' Cam asked.

'Kickboxing. I find it relaxes me and helps me to think clearly.' Brennan responded as though the answer was clear as daylight. She left.

Angela and Cam turned to each other.

'She's taking this really hard.' Cam pointed out.

'Yeah. And Booth. Man, this is really going to blow this place into pieces if we're not careful.' Angela said, looking back into her coffee.

Cam clapped her hands together in a business like manner.

'Which is why Dr Brennan is exactly right. We can't let it get to us or it won't be fair on Sweets. Lets get back to work and see if we can't find anything.'

Angela watched the pathologist leave to go and find Hodgins and look over all the clues again. The artist sighed and quietly prayed that they would see Sweets again.

* * *

Sweets lay on the floor. His tee-shirt was ripped and he was still tied to chair, but that had long since broken. His chest ached unbearably from being hit, punched, kicked and beaten with a metal pipe, and he was sure there was some serious damage there. He looked up at the camera and forced himself to roll the bits of chair tied to him towards it. It was late evening by now and his kidnappers were on a dinner break.

Almost immediately regretting the first roll, Sweets let his head fall to the floor and gasped as he closed his eyes in pain. Tears escaped from the corners and dripped off the end of his nose.

'It's not fair.' He whispered. 'It's just not fair.' He shook his head gently and the tears splashed to the floor.

* * *

It was 10 O'clock in the evening and none of the team, with exception of Dr Brennan, had left the Jeffersonian. No one dared to go home and everyone was searching every possible piece of evidence for a lead.

Booth was overlooking the raised area with all the computer equipment and the body tables, standing with his hands tucked firmly in his belt, observing everything in and grim silence.

Brennan ran through the doors, still dressed in her gym kit.

'Bones! Where have you been?' Booth exclaimed, walking down the steps to meet her.

'I have an idea!' Brennan grinned, and grabbed his hand, trying to drag him out of the doors.

'Hold on. Bones, it's too late to go anywhere to ask questions right now.' He whispered.

Brennan looked disappointed.

'But I know how we can find him.' She explained. 'Zack.'

The name brought a twinge of excitement to her face.

'What do you mean? Zack, as in Zack Zack?' Booth asked.

Brennan nodded.

'Yes. It won't be difficult to arrange a meeting with him. We just need a photo of the altered phone, and I'm certain Zack can figure out a way of decoding the signal and tracking the phone!'

'How will this work? We have trained FBI agents working on this, and none of them have an idea!'

'Have any of them made a similar phone?'

'No but…'

'Exactly. I trained Zack as an anthropologist. But before that he was more than capable of decoding anything. Give him a chance!' Brennan exclaimed.

Booth relented.

'Okay.' He turned to the rest of the group and shouted. 'Alright! Squint squad! We need photo stills taken from the video, pictures of the phone. I need anything you have already written up and handed to me…'

'Don't forget we'll need to take him some macaroni and cheese…' Brennan whispered.

'And I need ma… what?' Booth spun questioningly on Brennan. 'Oh… And we need macaroni and cheese…' He finished.

'Why?' Cam asked.

A small glint of hope appeared in Booth's eyes.

'We're going to go visit the missing squint.'


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Opening hours at the 'hospital' started and Brennan and Booth headed in to meet with the young Dr Zack Addy, to ask him for his help.

'Hey Zack!' Dr Brennan said comfortingly to the man sitting at the table opposite her in the bleak, dark room. 'I have a favour to ask.'

She slid the papers that they had brought with all the details of Sweets' abduction.

'Sweets was kidnapped and so far this is our only need. What can you make of it?' Booth asked in a fairly business-like manner.

'Basically, can you tell us how to get a trace on this phone?' Brennan clarified.

Zack studied the pictures carefully.

'Hmmm…' he mumbled, wincing in the manner which meant that he had something important to say, but felt as though he wasn't meant to say it.

'Can you decode the phone, or not?' Booth snapped.

'Yes…' Zack said, and again looked as though something else was playing on his mind.

'Good!' Brennan said, sliding a plain sheet of paper and a pen. Zack took neither of them.

'Zack, what's up?' Brennan asked.

'I can track the phone, but it would take me four hours and twenty six minutes, but Dr Sweets doesn't have that long.'

'Sweets is strong enough to hold on. We'll take any chance we can and hope he'll do the same.' Booth cut in.

Zack glanced at Brennan, screwing his face up slightly. He was unnerved by Booth's frosty mood.

'Just speak Zack.' Brennan encouraged.

'Well, the tape over the windows in the background of this picture, combined with the paint in this picture, suggests that Dr Sweets is being held in a building listed for demolition. And if it's due for destruction today, that gives me only three hours and fourteen minutes.' Zack pointed out.

Brennan looked at Booth.

'Hodgins said it was a warehouse of some kind… could we use that to find the location of buildings due for demolition?' Brennan asked.

'It's a long shot…' Booth responded. There was hope in his eyes.

Everything sped up.

'It was great seeing you again Zack but we have got to rush. Thank you so much for your hard work. Bye.' Brennan spouted, too quick for most human ears.

'Back to the lab!' She announced, and Brennan and Booth rushed from the 'hospital'.

'Demolition? Why didn't I think of that!' Hodgins exclaimed when informed of the news.

'What can you do with it?' Brennan asked.

'Let me just… ah ha!' Hodgins announced, typing on his computer.

'There are two buildings listed for demolition that match the estimated size shown here and are in this area.'

'Which one do we pick?' Cam asked, looking over his shoulder.

'That one.' Booth stated, pointing at one of the buildings. 'This one is next to a shopping centre.' He said pointed to the other. 'But this one is off the beaten track. Better hideout.' He explained.

Brennan checked her watch.

'It's being knocked down today at…' She looked up at Booth, worried.

'We have just over an hour…' She whispered.

'Let's go.' Booth agreed.

'Will you be able to drive?' Cam asked him, eyeing the bandaged arm.

'No, we'll take an armed team and head out there. I'll go in first.'

'I'm coming with you!' Brennan added.

'No Bones, it could be dangerous.' Booth protested.

'I am coming with you.' Brennan ordered.

Booth did not complain.

It took less than twenty minutes to assemble a small group of agents who were going and very soon they were on their way.

* * *

The man walked casually around the large open space of the warehouse, glancing at the corners of the room. He smiled maliciously at the only other person in there; the man chained to the wall, beaten and bruised, a puddle of blood forming at his feet as it dripped from numerous wounds across his chest and back. Sweets tried to keep his weight on the tips of his toes, knowing that if he let them slip the already painfully tight chains that bound his chest and kept him slightly raised above the floor, would bite into his skin and cause a greater level of agony than that he already had to bear.

He refused to pass out. He couldn't. He was blissfully unaware of the nature of the cause of his pain, but dreadfully aware of the pain itself. Unable to raise his head to take a much needed breath, his breathing was laboured, uneven and slow. He was too tired, too dehydrated to cry, too weak to cry out.

The other man; Sweets' first adoptive father, paced the length of the room and lifted the psychologist's head with two fingers beneath his chin. Sweets slowly opened his eyes to halfway, and although they burned, they remained tear free. He took a deep breath and shuddered with the pain it sent rocketing through his chest. His fear was gone. Re-written. It had turned into acceptance. He knew it was nearly over.

His father studied every inch of his face in detail, while Sweets stared blankly forward. The man smiled and let the psychologist's head fall back into his chest. He wiped his hands, put on a fluorescent orange jacket and a hard hat and shouted out of the warehouse.

'All clear in here! You can go ahead!'

Philip walked away, turning only once to glance back at the man chained to wall. He laughed and whistled as he left the warehouse.

* * *

The sirens blared as Brennan and Booth arrived at the scene. Just as Booth stepped from the car, ignoring his injured arm and using it to wave his badge, a demolition ball crashed into one side of the warehouse, knocking half of it clear down.

'FBI! STOP WHERE YOU ARE!' Booth yelled as loud as he could. All activity on the demolition site stopped in its tracks. The manager approached him carefully.

'What's FBI go to do with my land?' He asked.

'We believe there is a man being kept on these premises.' Booth explained, agitated and with a definite sense of time. 'We need to take a look round.'

'We checked the building. There is no-one inside.'

'We need to take a look around.' Booth hissed, stepping forward and looking imposing.

'You will need a warrant.'

'We don't have time to get a warrant! There could be a man dying in there right now, and I am going to save him.' Booth snapped.

'Uh…' Brennan stood in. 'Give us ten minutes.' She said.

'We're in the middle of a demolition. Any entry into this building is now prohibited. The site is too dangerous.' The manager protested.

'We don't care.' Brennan snapped.

'Let us in, or I will have you arrested for standing in the way of the course of justice.'

The manager relented.

'Fine. Take one of the guys with you.' He signalled for a young man, barely out of college to join them. The young man brought two hard hats.

'It's dangerous. So be careful. You have ten minutes or we'll carry on, with you still inside, or not.' The manager warned.

'Hi guys, I'm Warren.' The young builder introduced himself, holding out a hand for it to be shaken. Booth and Brennan ignored him and ran into the warehouse.

The demolition ball had done its work. The warehouse was a maze of bricks and walls that ended halfway through. Rubble fell from the ceiling like it was snow.

'Guys, this is really dangerous so you know, you might want some sort of… support?' Warren asked nervously.

Booth powered on into another room of the warehouse.

'Sweets?' He shouted.

'Sweets!' Brennan also tried. She turned to Booth.

'What if he's not in here Booth?' She asked.

'He will be.' Booth replied. 'Sweets?'

'So are you guys FBI or what?' Warren asked.

Booth shot him a warning look.

'Only you seem to know the guy you're after…' Warren shut up after a look from Brennan.

Booth turned into another room. This time it split into two alternate routes. More rubble fell from the ceiling and there was a loud creaking noise.

'Uh… guys… this don't look too safe…' Warren muttered, turning on a torch. He didn't need it, but it seemed to make him feel safer.

'COME ON! SWEETS!!' Booth yelled, and kicked a piece of metal into one of the doors.

Silence.

'Booth…' Brennan whispered.

'What?' Booth rounded on her, annoyed.

'Listen.'

Booth listened very carefully.

'Tapping.' He said quietly.

'That way.' Brennan pointed to one of the doors. They burst in, guns at the ready. The force of the door slamming open caused a blizzard of dust and bricks and a loud rumbling noise that suggested that the way out would not be as easy as the way in. Booth and Brennan put their sleeves over their mouths as the coughed away the dust that had filled their lungs and that was obscuring the room.

Warren walked backwards into the room staring wildly at the crumbling walls around him.

'That don't sound too good…' He muttered, and walked into Booth, who starting to stop the coughing.

The dust cleared, and Booth and Brennan could see ahead of them.

'Shit.' Booth whispered as he ran forwards.

'Oh god…' Brennan followed him to the body that hung chained to the wall. Sweets tapped pathetically onto the pipe that he was chained to. His breathing was loud and wheezy. As Brennan approached the full extent of his injuries seemed clear. The material wrapped around his arm did little to conceal the bullet wound beneath and the other arm had a single long scratch that deep and filthy. The dirt seemed to be blocking most of the blood flow, but blood still oozed slowly out around the dust. His chest seemed misshapen, with ribs that were visible through his thin figure, but seemed somehow wrong in how angular they appeared. Countless scratches ran across his bare chest, each oozing blood, but none so badly as a single stab wound, which seemed the most recent and which dripped blood down Sweets' body and onto the floor beneath his feet. The wound was unpleasantly deep and jagged, as dirty as the rest but flowing with blood at a far greater pace. A cut lined his left cheek and his skin was pale, almost greying though from the dust or from weakness and blood loss, Brennan couldn't tell.

The chains that bound his body cut angrily into his skin, rubbing it raw in some places and cutting straight into the flesh in others, limiting his already weak breathing.

'Okay… I'm gonna go get help!' Warren said, and ran out as quickly as possible. Booth could hear him retching just outside the room.

'Sweets?' Booth asked, gently lifting the psychologist's head with both hands so that he could breathe better. Sweets' eyelids fluttered slightly open and moved from side to side as he cleared the blur and focused on the face before him.

'Booth…' He whispered very quietly, a trickle of blood crept from one corner of his mouth. Booth wiped it away.

'Yes. Yes it's me.' Booth croaked as his voice broke with emotion.

Brennan stroked Sweets' hair in a reassuring manner.

'Hang in there Sweets.' She told him.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

The room was cold and the gradual scattering of rubble from the ceiling served as a grim reminder that the entire building was collapsing. But the psychologist was chained to a wall, and neither Brennan not Booth wanted to leave him.

'Here.' Brennan said, removing a bottle of water from her bag and holding the brim to Sweets' lips. Booth held the psychologist's head up so he could drink, and Sweets sipped carefully, although swallowing seemed to be a struggle. He was grateful of the cool liquid. Booth eyed Brennan slightly confused.

'I came prepared.' Brennan explained, removing sterile padding from the bag and pressing it against the deep cut on Sweets' chest. Sweets yelped and tried to pull away from the padding.

'I'm sorry Sweets but you need to apply pressure to the wound or you could bleed to death.' Brennan said wincing as Sweets grimaced and a tear fell down the side of his face.

The look on Booth's face had grown stony. His body was rigid as he tried to hold all emotion within. Every spec of sniper training that allowed him to brush over the loss of human life kicked in as he railed against the intense feelings of guilt, anger, fear and sorrow that wracked his mind.

Sweets suddenly lost whatever strength was holding his weight on the tips of his toes and his feet slipped from under him, forcing his entire weight onto the metal chains. He gasped as they cut further into his body and as breathing became even harder. His eyes screwed shut in pain and he whimpered pathetically; unable to shift his weight back into the more comfortable position. Booth reacted almost immediately. He tried to lift Sweets' weight higher again, but it only seemed to cause the psychologist more pain.

Brennan searched desperately for a link in the chains around Sweets sides.

'We have got to get him down from here.' Booth hissed.

'No good. It's padlocked.' Brennan sighed. 'If only…' She gasped and started searching desperately through her bag again.

'Where is that damn kid?' Booth growled, searching for any glimpse of Warren's return.

'Booth…' Sweets whispered. Booth looked at the psychologist's young face.

'I…' Sweets tried but the sentence only finished in an indefinable noise of agony. Instead, he flicked his fingers towards the gun on Booth's belt.

Booth looked down.

'No.' He said definitively.

'Please.' Sweets croaked.

'Sweets, I don't want you to…' Booth started.

'Please.' Sweets wheezed, a little more forcefully.

Booth winced as he considered what was being asked. He pushed his face close to Sweets, so close that their foreheads were touching as he tried desperately to dissuade the young psychologist. His speech was desperate and his hands gripped the sides of Sweets' head as though never wanted to let go of the fading life in front of him.

He stared directly into Sweets' eyes.

'I am not letting you go. Not right now. You hear me?'

Sweets swallowed and nodded pathetically very slightly. His eyes closed and tears splashed onto his chest and Booth's jacket, mixing with the salty tears from the FBI agents own face.

'You hear me Sweets?' Booth hissed louder and with more force.

Sweets nodded again and sniffed.

'Got it!' Brennan exclaimed suddenly.

Booth drew back, still supporting Sweets' head with one hand, and wiped his eyes with the other.

Brennan fumbled with the chains and a click signalled the release of the padlock. The chains loosened and Sweets tumbled forwards slightly, but was caught by Booth.

'Hairpin.' Brennan said, holding it up and smiling briefly.

She quickly unwrapped the chains from the psychologist's frail form as Booth helped support his weight. As Sweets fell forward it became clear that the people who had kidnapped him had also repeated whatever 'punishment' they had used when he was a child, because his back was covered in the criss-cross of red, weeping lines from a metal tipped whip.

Sweets collapsed forwards into Booth's arms, unable to hold even the slightest bit of his own weight. With every split second of contact, Sweets' agony increased as he fell gasping in agony onto the FBI agent.

'Okay. You're okay.' Booth tried to reassure him, but the words were strained as he suddenly felt the entire dead weight of the young psychologist.

'It… hurts…' Sweets whispered as Brennan pulled the last of the chains from him. Sweets instinctively pushed his head into Booth's shoulder, burying his face as an attempt to conceal the tears that squeezed from his eyes.

Brennan reached out to help take his weight, and with help from Booth, they managed to lower the psychologist onto his back so that he lay with his head resting on Brennan's lap. She leaned over to pick up the padding that had fallen to the floor and reapplied the pressure to Sweets' chest. He hissed as yet another factor added to his pain.

Booth knelt beside them, he brushed a fleck of plaster from Sweets' jeans and patted his hand gently in a masculine, yet caring manner.

Brennan looked down into Sweets' dark chocolate eyes.

'How are you still conscious?' She asked, brushing a piece of hair from her face with her free hand.

Sweets smiled weakly.

'Psychology.' He mouths, but was too weak to make the sound. His eyes closed slowly and his head rolled to the side.

Brennan looked panicked up at Booth who had immediately rolled Sweets' head back so it was facing upwards. He patted the uninjured side of the psychologist's face in an attempt to wake him up.

'Come on Sweets. Stay with us.' He begged.

Sweets' eyes fluttered open.

'Why?' He whispered hoarsely.

'Because if you sleep I don't know if you're going to wake up again.' Brennan told him. A tear fell from her eye and splashed onto Sweets' cheek. She wiped it gently aside.

Sweets sighed as deeply as the broken ribs would let him, and then shuddered with the agony that breathing so deeply caused him. His eyes half closed and his breathing became slower than it had been already and far shallower.

'I… can't… stay…' he wheezed in barely a whisper. His eyes closed fully.

'Sweets?' Brennan said loudly. She shuffled on her knees slightly in a panic.

'Sweets come on. You've gotta stay with us.' She begged.

Booth shook his shoulders gently.

'Come on Sweets!' He shouted at the unconscious face.

'Please don't die.' Brennan whispered. She glanced up at Booth who shuffled over to cradle her shoulders.

'It's okay Bones.' He said, although he didn't sound too sure himself.

'What did he mean 'psychology''? Brennan asked, trying to distract herself so she wouldn't completely break down. She had to stay strong so that she could do what was best for Sweets.

Booth's face went blank as he remembered years in the army.

'He's scared Bones. Just scared. So he couldn't let himself pass out.'

'So… now he's not scared?' Brennan asked, hoping that this was the only reason Sweets had drifted off.

Booth hung his head.

'I hope so.'

He took off his jacket and lay it across Sweets' chest, over Brennan's hand which still pinned the dressing down, in an attempt to keep the psychologist warm.

More rubble fell from the ceiling and a small rock bounced off the top of Brennan's helmet, coming to rest on the floor by Sweets' shoulder.

'Where the hell is Warren?' Booth asked angrily.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

The ambulance had arrived and taken Sweets to the hospital. He was rushed immediately into surgery and Brennan had contacted the rest of the team. They all sat in the waiting room at the hospital.

Booth leaned forward on his chair. He twitched his feet nervously rubbing the end of his nose repeatedly; his arms resting on his knees and his hands supporting his own head. Sweets' blood still caked his hands and he had rubbed a smear of it across his face. His shirt was wet and stained with red while his jacket was covered in a fine layer of dust.

Brennan hardly looked much neater. She couldn't bear to sit and paced nervously around the room her eyes full of tears.

Cam and Angela held hands tightly on the sofa, trying to comfort each other. Cam was staring blankly forwards, a single tear sliding down the side of her face. Angela had her eyes screwed shut in silent prayer.

Hodgins stood behind them, his blue eyes heavy and sad. He was unmoving, like a statue. Part of the furniture. It had been over two hours and still no word from the doctors.

Brennan broke the silence.

'How long will they be in there for?'

'He was taken straight into surgery. His injuries looked serious. It depends on the level of internal bleeding and whether everything went smoothly.' Cam responded in a monotone.

'How can everything not go smoothly?' Booth asked, not really paying attention.

'Any number of things could go wrong. He could crash, then they'd have to resuscitate him, they could find something worse, or it could just take a very very long time to sort out the problems.' Brennan replied clinically. 'He was stabbed. I don't know the statistics around stabbings and survival…'

'It doesn't matter. Sweets will pull through.' Cam said.

'You're not exactly filling me with hope Bones.' Booth criticised.

'How can you be so sure Cam?' Hodgins whispered, trying not to let his emotions run away with him.

'If he wasn't fighting he'd be dead by now. He'd have given up.' Cam replied.

'He nearly did. He nearly wanted me to kill him. He was ready to go. I just wasn't ready to let him.' Booth croaked, a tear splashed onto his lap.

'Oh God!' Angela complained and stood up, Hodgins put his arms around her in comfort.

Dr Wyatt walked in from the corridor. Everyone looked up.

'I have news. Neither good nor bad, but it's news.' He said.

'Is Sweets okay?' Brennan asked.

'Most certainly not!' Wyatt responded, 'But he is alive. And for the time, that's all we can hope for.' He smiled begrudgingly.

'Well, can we see him?' Brennan asked standing.

'I'm afraid not. He's still in the OR. Things are rather more complicated than they first seemed.'

'How so?' Cam asked, sitting upright.

'Well for a start they've had to reconstruct most of the poor lad's ribcage! I should say that's fairly tricky work!' Wyatt explained.

Cam nodded in understanding.

'I will make sure I get those bastards and give them what's coming to them.' Booth hissed, digging his nails into the palm of his hand.

'That would involve catching them first.' Cam pointed out.

'How is it that one group of people would put so much at risk just to damage someone else? I mean, there was any number of moments they could have been caught; they changed the entire people's database for one con!' Angela said. 'And don't you dare call it a conspiracy.' She snapped at Hodgins.

Hodgins opened his mouth, but thought better of arguing as it would only serve to make people feel worse. He shook his head instead.

'If only we'd have worked faster.' Brennan said.

'I handed him over.' Booth stated sadly.

'Well, yes and no Agent Booth.' Wyatt pointed out. 'You did what you thought was right for the lad. Any other person would have done the same.'

'I'm gonna go talk to the doctors.' Brennan exclaimed, leaving the room.

Booth tried to follow her, 'Bones, they'll tell us if there's a change!' He called after her. Wyatt put an arm out to stop Booth and Brennan glanced back at him but kept walking.

'She needs to do this so she can feel as though she has some control over the situation.' Wyatt explained. Booth shook his head and sat back down.

'Now look you lot.' Wyatt started at the team. 'If young Dr Sweets pulls through this he is going to need the lot of you to stay strong and just carry on.'

'What is this? British stiff upper lip?' Hodgins rounded on Wyatt, trying to vent his anger.

'Not at all Dr Hodgins. But grieving for your young psychologist while he's still alive seems a little premature, don't you think?'

'Wyatt's right.' Cam said. 'We need to try and find whoever did this. Booth, what have your people got on the case so far?'

'I am not doing anything until I know Sweets is going to be okay.' Booth challenged.

'I know this is hard on you, but we've got to keep moving for Sweets' sake.' Cam replied.

'I am not moving Camille!' Booth shouted. And that was the end of that conversation.

Cam didn't argue.

'I want Sweets to be okay too Seeley. I just don't want to feel like I'm doing nothing.'

'Don't call me Seeley.'

'Then don't call me Camille.'

Wyatt watched with interest.

'Yes, well, nevertheless, it might be worth just considering what your next move might be, hmm?' The ex-psychologist asked.

'Get Sweets out of here and back with us as soon as possible.' Booth tried.

'Not going to be possible Booth. Even if he is safer with us, he will need someone to change the dressings on his injuries and check up on him regularly. This is even when he's strong enough to work again.' Cam explained.

'Well, Dr Saroyan, you're a pathologist, no?' Wyatt pointed out.

'Dead people more my thing.' Cam mentioned.

'Yes but still, you have a degree in medicine. Why not see if you'd be allowed to patch Dr Sweets up when he's back up and running? It might be a safer alternative to leaving him here.' Wyatt replied.

'Hey guys, aren't we forgetting something?' Angela butted in. 'What if Sweets doesn't make it? What then? I don't want to sound like I don't have faith in him, but we need to be prepared for the worst.'

'Quite right Miss Montenegro.' Wyatt agreed.

Hodgins rubbed his face, worried.

'Man, life is too short.' He commented, his voice low and strained from worry.

Contemplative silence followed, which lasted for about half an hour, broken suddenly by Booth's phone.

'Booth.' He answered. 'Not now Rebecca!' He stood up and walked to the other end of the room. 'I know I was meant to pick him up but… No, I'm… Well yes but… what? Oh hey buddy. Look, Parker, I'm sorry… No! I haven't forgotten about you!… No it's just that Sweets isn't very well… yes he is the one who looks like a baby… Yes he… no you can't speak to him…' Booth's voice started to crack. 'I love you too buddy. See you tomorrow… okay bye… Yes? Rebecca? Look, you're going to have to take him. Something's come up… Yes it's serious… Ok. Bye.'

He closed the phone and looked over to the rest of the group.

'I uh… forgot to pick up Parker. He… um… He wanted to ask Sweets if he could play teenage mutant ninja turtles again.' Booths voice shook with the last sentence. His eyes grew gradually redder and redder and more blood shot.

Cam walked over to him and put her arms comfortingly around his shoulder.

'I'm sorry Seeley.' She whispered.

Booth drew back and rocked back on his shoes as he tried to regain his composure.

Brennan appeared at the entrance to the room again. Everyone turned to her.

'He uh, he's out of surgery. They're moving him into intensive care. The doctor said she'd tell us everything when they've sorted him out. It doesn't look…' She couldn't finish the sentence.

'It doesn't matter.' Cam said reassuringly. Booth stepped forwards and put his arms tightly around his partner. He rocked her gently and finally drew back, gazing into her eyes and offered a tissue.

The doctor walked into the room holding a clipboard. Everyone stood and gathered round.

'We've sorted all the internal damage, but Lance crashed twice on the operating table. He's been resuscitated, but remains unresponsive in a coma in intensive care. Now, it goes against hospital regulation to allow someone in his condition to have visitors, but we feel in this case it is going to be necessary. You might want to phone any family or friends.'

The description was clinical and to the point, Brennan appreciated it, but it did not exactly inspire hope in the hearts and minds of anyone in the room.

Brennan turned to Booth.

'He doesn't have any family.' She said, the statement was half a question.

'No. And I'm not sure about friends outside of this group…' Booth replied.

'Ah, it would be my opinion of the young Dr Sweets that he is, indeed, mostly alone. But not in a depressing way, more a safety, work based manner.' Wyatt suggested.

Brennan nodded in agreement.

She breathed in deeply, stopping any chance of her crying.

'Can we see him?' She asked.

'Of course. We will limit visitors to two at a time, but there is a window into the room we're keeping him in, so that the rest of you can watch. I will have to warn you before you go, this is not going to be easy for any of you. Lance is hooked up to a lot of wires and tubes that are keeping him alive. It will look scary, but I assure you it's for the best.'

Brennan turned, disgusted, to Booth.

'Why is this woman treating us as though we're children?' she asked, loud enough so the doctor seemed taken aback and lost her nerve in talking to them slightly.

'Um… his injuries are very severe so be prepared…' The doctor soften suddenly. 'Look, I have to tell you, we don't think he's going to last the night. So you may want to use this time to say your goodbyes.'

Brennan looked at Booth again.

'I'm not saying goodbye. Goodbye suggests we're okay with him going. I'm not okay with it.'

Booth put an arm reassuringly round her shoulders.

'I'm not sure I'm ready for this.' Hodgins whispered.

'Booth and I will go last.' Brennan explained.

Cam nodded.

'I'll go first. I can't hold back the tears for much longer.'

'And I will accompany you Dr Saroyan. I wish to express my regret at what has happened to him also.' Wyatt said.

They were led to a back room with windows that faced onto one of the back corridors and one that looked into the 'on shift' nurse's room.

Through the glass the team could see a room full of machines and lights and tubes, whirring, bleeping and turning. In the middle, Sweets was laid out under a white sheet hooked up to the machines. There was a tube taped to his cheek and running into his mouth and down his throat to allow him breath, this was linked to the respirator next to him, and there was a screen showing his slow heart rate. He was attached to a drip and a transfusion of blood for the blood that he had lost, and his arms were wrapped in bandages, one was in a plaster cast. There was a plaster across his cheek and his eyes were closed.

'He looks so small.' Angela said sadly. 'Can we take it in shifts to stay with him the whole time? You know, so when he wakes up, he doesn't wake up alone?'

'That's a really nice idea Ange.' Hodgins said, putting an arm round her shoulders.

'Let's just all go in quickly now. Just while we still have time.' Cam said. Her belief that Sweets was going to be okay had been quickly stripped by seeing him lying in the hospital bed. She took a deep breath, looked over to Wyatt, and pushed the door open.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Cam sat by the hospital bed while Wyatt closed the blinds to give them some privacy from the others outside.

Cam looked into Sweets' young face and wondered if he knew that she was in there.

'Hey Sweets.' She started, watched carefully by Wyatt. She bowed her head quickly, wondering how she was going to put the next part. She smiled as she remembered one of the quirky moments with Sweets in the lab.

'Hey, you remember when we were all in the biohazard suits, and you pretended to be a robot, then you sneezed and it went all over the front of your mask? We could really use some times like that again.' She patted his hand. It was cold.

'Stay in there okay?'

Wyatt raised his eyebrows at her.

'Oh. Right.' Cam whispered. The smile faded completely.

'And, just so that you know that we're not pressuring you to hold on if it's tough for you, we're behind you with whatever you choose. So just in case…' She lifted his cold hand as her eyes filled with tears. '…just in case… goodbye, Sweets.' She kissed the hand and held it tightly with both of hers.

Wyatt stood from his chair.

'Dr Sweets, it was a pleasure meeting you. A mind and a heart as good as your own are hard to come by these days.' He patted the unconscious body's shoulder gently, then offered a hand to Cam.

Cam looked at the proffered hand, and then back at the man's unconscious face. She sighed and took Wyatt's hand, wiping the tears from her face. She left and when she reached the corridor, feigned strength and calm. She clapped her hands together in a business-like manner and smiled fakely.

'Right, who's next?' She asked. Wyatt shot her a look, it was half contemplative, half interested. Even as a psychologist he was unsure why she would mask her feelings in such a manner.

Angela and Hodgins stepped forwards.

'Well,' sighed Hodgins, 'I guess we're up next.' He did not seem enthusiastic.

Angela and Hodgins held hands for security as they stepped into the hospital room. Both knew this was not going to be easy.

They entered, holding hands palm to palm in an attempt at reassuring themselves, and temporarily forgetting all the history between them. Nothing had really prepared Hodgins for what he saw.

'Wow. He looks so small.' The entomologist said, walking to the side of the bed and peering at Sweets' face.

'How is he even still alive. Ange, do you reckon he can hear us?'

Angela looked sadly at the young man laid out on the bed with wires and tubes spidering around the room.

'I don't know.' She whispered, and took a seat by the said of the bed.

'Man I always thought Sweets seemed invincible. He was just the psychologist that came in and helped with the cases. I'm not sure it ever even registered that he was a real human, with real feelings.' Hodgins breathed, feeling guilt for something he hadn't even done.

'I think none of us really thought at first. But it's weird looking at how important he's become to the team.' Angela agreed.

'Yeah, he really proved himself as one of us.' Hodgins shook his head and fixed his eyes on a spot on the wall, willing himself not to cry.

Angela smiled inwardly, looking at the face of the psychologist.

'Despite Brennan's disapproval of psychology, you made it into her good books.' She sighed, taking Sweets' good hand in both of her own. 'And that makes you too special to ever let go, Sweets.'

'Ange?' Hodgins whispered her name. Angela looked up, Hodgins could see that her mascara was smudged slightly around her eyes and her eyes themselves were watery.

'Ange, do you think the doctor was right? About us having to say goodbye?' The entomologist asked, worried. He hated change, and the idea of what the Jeffersonian would be like in the event of one of their colleague's deaths just didn't bear thinking about.

Angela shook her head sadly. 'I don't know.'

Hodgins shuffled his feet awkwardly. He felt and sad and guilty all at the same time, but he knew he couldn't lose it or flip out. He pinged the elastic band around his wrist repeatedly so that it left a sore red line. His blue eyes darted around the room, looking for the ways to say what was running through his mind. He rubbed one hand down his face, distressed.

'Hey dude? I'm not even sure if you can hear me but… hey, you're not looking in too good a shape, and well… don't uh… don't die. But if you really can't keep going, and god knows we all feel like that sometimes… just… we're right beside you man. Goodbye.' He said to no-one in particular, hanging his head and hiding the tears that dripped to the floor. Angela kept watching Sweets' face as though expecting some response. She stroked his hand gently.

'Hey Sweets.' She took a breath. Her voice shook. 'I know you can hear me, and I have no idea on what you're going through in there, but please try to pull through. Booth will… Booth will find whoever did this to you, and we will make him pay. I promise. Goodbye Sweets.' She leant forwards and kissed his forehead. She knew he wouldn't respond, but she desperately wanted him to. And when he didn't, she found the tears flowing down her face. 'Oh god.' She choked out, standing and holding a tissue to her streaming eyes.

Hodgins sniffed loudly, forcing back his own tears. He glanced at Angela and walked over to her, snaking an arm over her shoulders in comfort.

'Don't cry Ange. Please don't cry.' He whispered as she buried her face into his shoulder.

'No. No you're right.' Angela said, forcing her voice to be strong. 'He's going to be okay, everything is going to be fine.' She pulled away from Hodgins and took a deep breath. They left the room together.

Once in the outside corridor, Angela turned to Cam, who was sitting on one of the chairs, her hands clasped together in worry.

'God that is so much harder than it seemed.' Angela said, but it finished with a squeak as she tried to hide the tears that threatened to come.

Hodgins took a seat by Wyatt.

'I don't even know how he's still alive.' The entomologist admitted gravely. Wyatt nodded, also feeling the despair around the group.

Brennan looked at Booth. Their turn.

Just before they entered, Angela threw herself at Brennan, hugging her tightly.

'It'll be okay.' The artist reassured.

'I know it will.' Brennan said, but her eyes were watery and red.

Brennan and Booth entered the hospital room. Booth hovered awkwardly by the door as Brennan walked straight to the bed. She stood, looking over Sweets' unconscious body.

'I wonder if it's uncomfortable lying like that on the cuts on his back.' Brennan commented. Trying to use empirical logic as a shield to hind behind.

'I don't know Bones.' Booth said. His voice was low and his eyes were red and sore.

'Look, Sweets, I'm sorry that I caused all this and you know, well, goodbye Sweets.' Booth said, desperate to get this moment of insecurity over.

'Booth, what are you doing?' Brennan asked.

'I'm saying goodbye Bones.'

'It's not like he can necessarily hear you.'

'Well he might be able to okay Bones? You just don't know.' Booth hissed back at her, and then raised his hand apologetically towards Sweets.

Brennan opened her mouth and made a noise that might have been taken as a disbelieving laugh, had a tear not have been sliding down the side of her face.

'Just… say goodbye Bones.' Booth hissed again.

'No I…' Brennan realised that Booth needed her to do this, as much as Wyatt believed that she needed to do this. She paced around the bed.

'Hey Sweets… I'm not even sure if you can hear me, or what. But I thought that you might just need to know that I…' She sniffed and stopped pacing, looking straight into the face of her unconscious friend.

'Well I'm not going to say goodbye. I'm sure you'll understand, but I just feel that saying goodbye might mean underestimating your strength and determination, and I wouldn't want to insult you in that way.' She shot a glance at Booth, who stared back at her angrily.

Brennan sat down very suddenly, more and more tears fell from her eyes until she was clearly crying.

'Okay look Sweets. I'm just not saying goodbye because that suggests that I'm okay with you going. And I'm not. And I think you should…' She sighed. 'Just wake up and have everything back to normal again.'

'Bones! What are you doing?' Booth whispered.

'Well you believe in miracles don't you? And surely if they do exist then there will be one now, and Sweets will be okay.' Her voiced cracked. Booth walked across the room and put his arms tightly around her.

'There already is a miracle Bones.' He whispered, glad of the fact that she had hidden her head in his shoulder so that she wouldn't have to see him crying.

'Sweets is alive.' Booth explained.

The stayed there in silence for several minutes; Brennan sitting on the chair, watching Sweets' robotic breathing as Booth stood behind her, his hand on her shoulder, also watching the man in front of the struggle for life.

The silence was broken soon.

'You know, none of this is your fault.' Brennan tried to reassure Booth's guilty conscience.

'Yeah it is Bones. I handed him over to them.'

'No. You tried to protect him because you knew you weren't up to it. You acted on all the evidence in front of you. Everyone else would have done the same.'

'I should have acted on instinct Bones.'

Wyatt stuck his head round the door.

'Um excuse me Agent Booth, Dr Brennan, but there is a rather lovely young nurse here who thinks it is time you should probably leave, unless one of you plans on taking the first shift for staying with him, in which case we think that we should work on a rota of four hours each? Does that sound fair? Which the exception of overnight, where one person can stay for the entire night.'

Booth and Brennan looked at each other.

'That sounds fair. I'd like to take first shift.' Brennan said.

'Very well Dr Brennan. And in that case, Agent Booth, you are free to go.' Wyatt exclaimed.

Booth left.

'Hey Doc, can I have a word with you briefly?' He asked Wyatt.

'Oh no, I'm afraid that I am no longer a psychologist. If it's therapy you lot need, I expect you should probably use the help the hospital provides.'

'No, not that Gordon Gordon!' Booth beckoned the older psychologist to one side, out of earshot of the others.

'Just it seems to me that you're pretty much in charge of this whole, rota thing… and can you put me off as long as possible?' Booth whispered.

Wyatt studied Booth's body language and noted the worried, angry and thoughtful look on his face.

'I should expect so agent Booth. But why?'

'No reason in particular.' Booth said, beginning to leave.

Wyatt considered this for a second, Then held out a hand to stop Booth leaving.

'If you plan on going after the people who did this, don't you think it's a little unfair to go alone and endanger yourself as well? Don't you think the lovely Dr Brennan might have something to say on the subject?'

'Look, Gordon Gordon, you are not going to stop me on this one. If I'm not back later, get someone to cover me.'

Wyatt raised his eyebrows disapprovingly, but he realised there was nothing he could do to stop it.

'Well you might at least clean yourself up a bit first.' He said, gesturing to Booth's blood stained clothing. 'I'll go on shift before you, and I'll cover if you don't show. That way no-one else needs to worry about you going off gallivanting around after murderous brutes.'

'Thanks Gordon Gordon.' Booth said, and started to walk away again.

'Agent Booth?' Wyatt called after him. Booth stopped and Wyatt caught up with him.

'I am seriously concerned about how you are taking this at the moment. Maybe you and I could have a little chat sometime? Nothing official, just a little one to one reassurance?'

'No shrinking Doc.' Booth responded curtly.

'Well, at least promise me that if the lad dies, you'll see someone, and if he pulls through, well…' He clapped his hands together. 'Excellent. Then I should expect that he would be the ideal person to talk to. Maybe you could both offer each other the 'shrinking' that you may require.'

Booth watched Wyatt for a bit, then shot a glance over his shoulder towards the rest of the group. He took a deep breath, and paced quickly out of the hospital.

Wyatt watched him sadly as he left.

'Oh dear. Oh dear oh dear.' The psychologist muttered, shaking his head.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Hodgins appeared behind Wyatt, he'd been listening in on the end of the conversation.

'Has Booth gone?' He asked.

'Ah…' Wyatt began, unsure whether it was wise to divulge such information. 'Yes. Yes he did.'

'Great.' Hodgins ran from the hospital. He saw Booth on the phone in the pick up area just by the main entrance.

'Booth! Hey Booth!' He shouted.

Booth glared angrily at him and snapped his phone shut.

'Hodgins what are you doing here?' He snapped.

'Look, you're clearly going after these guys and I figured I could help out.' Hodgins explained.

'I don't need your help.' Booth signalled for a taxi. Hodgins grabbed his arm.

'You really do dude. You're still hurt and I want to help.' The entomologist said stubbornly.

'Mind if you don't?' Booth groaned.

'I'm not taking 'no' for an answer Booth. Me and you, we can do this.' Hodgins tried.

'Fine.' Booth hissed loudly. His voice dropped to almost a whisper. 'But, uh, don't tell the girls. Yeah?'

'Yeah.' Hodgins agreed. The cab pulled over.

'No way man. I don't travel by cab!' Hodgins exclaimed.

Booth stared at him angrily, but the anger soon faded as Hodgins pulled out the keys to a flashy red jaguar sports car. The entomologist grinned, and Booth found the corners of his own mouth twitching into a smile with boyish excitement.

'Where to first?' Hodgins asked as he jumped in the drivers seat.

'Back to the building site. FBI have it under lock down and we'll see what we can find. Keep a look out for you know… dirt and stuff.' The FBI agent suggested.

Hodgins hung his head, annoyed, and let out a sigh.

'Particulates, Booth. Not dirt.'

'Yeah yeah, whatever. Just drive okay?' Booth snapped back.

'Dude, first I'm taking you home and you are changing. I mean, you stink!' Hodgins moaned.

Booth looked down at his blood stained shirt. The blood was now dry and beginning to smell as old blood generally does. He nodded in agreement.

* * *

Wyatt returned to the waiting area where he met Cam and Angela.

'It would appear that the men in this case have left to shake the horrors of the day from themselves with a good nights sleep. I will follow suit and I suggest that you both do as well.'

With that he left, trudging from the hospital; his shoulders slightly slumped as the worry and fear for the younger psychologist he had been hiding started to show for the first time.

Angela sighed and turned to Cam.

'Do you think there's anything we can do?' She asked.

'Not until it's our turn to watch over him.' Came the response.

'Do you think he'll make it?' Angela asked.

Cam shook her head sadly.

'I'm not sure.'

'If we could just… do something…' Angela muttered.

'Well one thing can be sure; none of us are going to sleep tonight.' Cam said, staring tiredly at the floor.

'We need to find Philip Masters, right?' Angela asked, a sudden idea lighting on her mind.

'Yes?' Cam replied, wondering what Angela was thinking.

'You used to be an agent, and I can cross reference Philip Master's face with CCTV footage from FBI files, and maybe even get a trace on the whereabouts of the laptop…' The artist continued.

Cam brightened.

'We could find him, or at least get a rough idea of how to find him. Contact Booth in the morning with our findings and we stand a chance!' She nodded, thinking the plan through.

'Who says we need the boys anyway?' Angela joked, trying to lift her, and the person next to her's spirits.

'Well then, we should set off. Back to the lab.'

* * *

Brennan kept her eyes focused on the young man's face, hoping for the slightest flicker of life. As fresh tears pricked in her eyes, long after she thought she'd cried them all out, she decided to distract herself somehow.

Not entirely sure why, or what the curiosity behind it was, the anthropologist lifted the X-Rays and notes from the end of Sweets' bed, reading through them and lifted the black X-Rays to the light to peer at the information they contained. What she saw surprised her, although she was unsure why.

'Extensive remodelling on all visible bones...' She commented to no one in particular. She moved the hand holding the X-Rays to her side and looked over at Sweets' face.

'Practically every bone in his body has been fractured at one stage or another...'

A smiley, ginger, female doctor walked in. She looked at the X-Rays in Brennan's hands.

'Looking at the X-Rays, huh?'

'Oh I didn't...' Brennan started apologetically, trying to put the X-Rays away.

'Don't worry about it!' The red haired doctor laughed. She took the X-Rays from Brennan's hand and held them to the light.

'Nope. Couldn't believe it myself when I saw them.' She commented. 'What is this kid? Some sort of dare-devil motorcyclist?'

Brennan jumped in.

'Oh... no... he was a victim of child abuse.' She corrected.

The doctor laughed.

'I know, I know. I read the file. It's Dr Brennan right? Guess what they say about you is true. Nah, I was merely making a joke.'

'Why do you do that?' Brennan asked.

'Do what?' The doctor replied, confused.

'Make jokes.'

The doctor shrugged. 'Lightens the mood I guess. Goodlooking boy isn't he?'

'Please... stop doing that.' Brennan asked, she was beginning to get angry.

'Dr Brennan, I work around death all the...'

'As do I! But I don't make jokes about...'

'I'm sorry.' The doctor said, running a few routine checks.

'Shouldn't the nurses be doing that?' Brennan asked.

'Yeah, but we're short staffed and it's swap over time this late.'

'What time is it?' Brennan had lost all sense of time.

'About ten thirty.' The doctor looked at Brennan's messy appearance.

'Hey, I'll get the nurses to get you a change of clothes. Shouldn't really be in here, dressed that dirty. Health risk. But I'll make an exception.'

'You shouldn't really make an exception. If a rule is in place for a reason then...'

The doctor cut her off again. She had a nasty habit of doing so.

'No offence Dr Brennan, but every moment you spend with this boy counts. I'm not taking a second away from you.' The doctor left.

Brennan sat down heavily on the chair by the bed. She was totally emotionally drained.

'Please wake up Sweets.' She sighed.

* * *

Back at the lab, Cam and Angela were checking all CCTV footage they could get their hands on, but to no avail.

Booth and Hodgin's walked in.

'What the... What are you guys doing here?' Booth challenged.

'We came to work the case.' Cam explained.

'Nu-uh. We're a team. We don't work without the rest of the team.' Booth motioned with his hands to signify a team is like a box.

Cam looked guilty.

Angela stood her ground.

'So what are you boys doing here?' She asked disapprovingly, standing and putting her hands on her hips.

Booth suddenly looked slightly ashamed. He scratched the back of his hair nervously.

'I uh... We uh... Find anything?' He asked.

Angela sat back down sadly. 'No. You?'

Hodgins shook his head and took a seat.

'Looks like we're getting no-where.' Cam said.

'How can one guy just disappear?' Hodgins asked.

'I dunno, but he's good. I'll give him that.' Cam replied.

* * *

Brennan woke suddenly, realising that she must have fallen asleep. Spare clothes were laying on the floor next to her; hospital scrubs and a blanket, and someone else had clearly been into the room because there was a get well soon card and a small red car on the table in the corner of the room. Brennan wondered why the visitor hadn't woken her, and decided it must have been Wyatt, because only he would have just left her to sleep.

She pulled the blinds closed and quickly changed her clothing. It felt weird changing in front of Sweets, but she knew he was unconscious, and therefore not watching, so she was safe.

She folded her blood covered clothes and placed them on the floor by the chair, then checked on Sweets; guilty that she hadn't been watching over him the whole time.

To her disappointment, nothing had changed.

And then, everything changed.

The reassuring, steady bleeping grew faster and faster, until the bleep was a single, constant pitch. The body in front of her jarred suddenly, then lay still.

'Someone help in here!' Brennan shouted as hospital staff were already flooding into the room around her, pinning the bed so it was horizontal, whipping the sheets down and tearing open the paper gown to reveal Sweet's bandaged chest as they tried defibrillators over and over.

Brennan stood to the side, shocked by everything around her.

The red haired doctor looked at her.

'I'm going to have to ask you to leave.'

'No.' Brennan said, defiant. 'I'm staying.'

Powerless to do anything, and more interested in saving the life in front of her, the red haired doctor let it slide.

'Come on Sweets.' Brennan whispered. The doctors stopped. Brennan looked up hopefully.

The red haired doctor checked her watch.

'Time of death...'

'NO!' Brennan shouted, knocking the doctors hands down.

The doctor stared at her.

'You do not give up on him.' Brennan hissed angrily. 'You do not stop.'

'I think it would be best if you...'

'No. Listen to me. You do not stop. Not now. Keep going...'

'Dr Brennan I really think it would be...'

'Don't you dare give up on him...'

'DR BRENNAN! WOULD YOU PLEASE LEAVE THIS ROOM IMMEDIATELY!'

'Not until you save him!'

'Dr Brennan, I know this is hard for you but this man is beyond...'

'HE IS NOT DEAD!'

Brennan shoved the nurses hands from Sweets' body and starting pushing with all her force onto his chest in order to keep the blood circulating around his body.

'Come on Sweets...' She whispered. Security tried to pull her away but she shoved them aside. The nurses looked on helplessly. One security guard called for back up.

'Sweets, COME ON!' Brennan shouted, panicking as tears fell onto the body in front of her.

Two security guards grabbed her arms and dragged her away from the body. She was too weak to fight two butch, huge men. They tried to drag her from the room.

'Please...' Brennan begged the red haired doctor through tear filled eyes. 'Please.'

The doctor looked angry, but was clearly moved. She turned to the nurse beside her, as if asking for advice. The nurse shook her head.

The red haired doctor took off her gloves.

'No!' Brennan's knees gave way completely so security was now holding her up, rather than dragging her out.

'Please.' She sobbed. 'He wouldn't want to die... He wouldn't... no... Sweets... Please no.'

The red haired doctor threw her gloves to the floor angrily. She looked up at the ceiling for guidance. Then spun round to the nurses and other doctors, grabbing the defibrillators.

'We keep going.' She announced.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

It had been almost three weeks since Sweets was admitted into the hospital, and little had changed. His injuries were starting to heal and he was breathing on his own, no longer hooked up to the machines, but the cuts on his back showed no signs of improvement. He remained unmoving and cold. Dead to the world around him as his friends moved in and out; taking it in turns to watch over him.

It was Cam's turn again. She walked into the room and waved at Booth, signalling that he could leave. Booth, who was bored of sitting in silence in the room, jumped up immediately, grinned at Cam and ran out, directly into the men's toilets.

Cam looked sadly at the body on the bed.

She sat on the chair by the bed and took a woman's magazine from her bag, briefly glancing at all the get well soon cards and gifts. The red car caught her eye. It seemed a weird gift to give to an adult, but it was the thought that counted, and, after all, Sweets would probably appreciate the childishness of the gift.

'Hmm... psychology 101...' Cam chuckled to herself as she flicked onto a page with a personality quiz.

* * *

Booth zipped up his flies, ran his hands under the tap and casually strolled from the men's bathroom. On the way out he noticed a poster taped to the door.

'Bing and Bartholomew's psychic circus. We'll read your mind and blow it away.'

The FBI agent paused for a second.

'Circus...' He whispered to himself. Something in the back of his head was formulating an idea.

He read the touring information at the bottom of the page. It was on the Florida circuit. He wondered why it would be advertised in this hospital; it was unlikely anyone in the hospital was going to travel to Florida to see a circus. It almost felt as though someone was leaving him hints of some sort... but he just couldn't understand them...

No. He was being silly. He was becoming obsessed with catching Philip Masters and he was finding the stupidest of links lying around everywhere.

But then again... Sweets had once said that his mother was a psychic in a circus in Florida... Something didn't quite make sense to the FBI agent. But whether or not it was actually nonsensical, or whether he was just looking for anomalies, he didn't know.

He flipped his phone open and dialled Brennan's number, but never pressed 'call' because it seemed too stupid. The FBI agent was sure he was losing it. His obsession with the Master's case had gone beyond normal boundaries, and they'd found nothing. It was as though Philip Masters had literally vanished from the surface of the earth.

Booth checked the time on his watch and hurried his pace to leave the hospital and pick up Parker from school.

Twenty minutes later he arrived at the school gates. Parker ran to greet him, waving a brightly coloured piece of paper.

'Heeeey Little Man!' Booth greeted, picking Parker up and spinning him round. 'What you got there?'

Parker giggled happily and showed Booth the brightly coloured piece of paper.

'The teacher was ill so we had a substitute and Jonny let me use his crayons so I made Dr Sweets a get well soon card because you said that he still wasn't feeling very well.'

Booth took the card and looked at it. There was a crudely drawn picture of Sweets with bandages all over his body and the teenage mutant ninja turtles standing next to him.

'That's really good Parker. Really really good.' Booth praised, putting Parker back on the ground and ruffling his hair a little.

'Can I give to him? Please?' Parker asked.

Booth looked sad, but soon covered it up so that Parker wouldn't know anything was wrong.

'Yeah, when he wakes up.'

'But he's been asleep for aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaages. Why hasn't he woken up yet?' Parker complained.

'Because he's really not very well at all.'

Parker suddenly looked very sad and serious.

'Daddy, Dr Sweets isn't going to die, is he?' The child asked, worried.

Booth looked scared. He patted his sons head reassuringly.

'I hope not Parker.'

* * *

Cam turned the page, bored. She'd read the magazine several times and still found it to be full of the rubbish that women like to tell themselves is true. She closed the magazine and set it to one side, watching the red line that bleeped to show that Sweets was alive.

After five minutes the beeping seemed to get faster and she guessed she must have been losing sense of time. She checked her watch, wondering when Wyatt would arrive to take over. To her annoyance she found that she had only been in the room for half an hour.

A sudden noise made her jump. It was quiet, but amplified by the lonely atmosphere in the room. She spun her head round as the noise sounded again. It seemed to be coming from Sweets' bed.

Cam worried that the drip might be damaged, so checked it. Nothing seemed wrong.

She relaxed, figuring that she was being silly and sat on the chair next to the bed again. She leant forwards so she was leaning on her hands; her elbows resting on the bed next to Sweets' arm, and stared blankly at the wall on the other side of the room.

* * *

Brennan studied the skeleton in front of her. It belonged to an as yet unidentified man from over seventy years ago. She needed the study to distract her from the fact that Sweets was still in hospital, and although she was now becoming far more used to this fact, she was well aware of the statistics involving recovery and time spent in a coma. She felt things were becoming a little desperate.

Further down the upstairs corridor of the lab, Hodgins was feeding some small crickets to the tarantulas he kept in a cage as he waited for the mass-spec to finish it's identification of the particulates from John Blackmoore's clothing.

Deep down the entomologist knew that nothing new would arise, but it felt good to at least be trying.

Angela meanwhile was painting in her room. The painting had not yet taken shape fully, but the brush strokes were clear and angry.

Work in the Jeffersonian was continuing as normal, although for the first time ever the squints were starting to feel the strain of their work.

Wyatt himself felt worn out and tired as he prepared a batch of chocolate chip cookies.

* * *

Cam froze as something brushed lightly against her sleeve. She looked down to her elbow where she had felt the light, feathery contact. Nothing.

Then, as she watched, she saw Sweets' index finger twitch slightly, again moving the material on Cam's shirt. She watched carefully, listening to the bleeping getting slightly faster, but not too fast that it would cause alarm.

'Sweets?' Cam asked, unsure.

Sweets' eyes fluttered open slightly. He blinked quickly and repeatedly and then closed them. A low, pained groan emitted from his lips. Cam grabbed his hand gently, clasping it between both of her own.

'Sweets?' She tried again, only a little louder.

There was no response.

'Lance?' She tried this time.

The hand held in hers twitched gently, trying to apply pressure in what she could only imagine was an attempt at reassurance, or perhaps just the young psychologist seeking comfort. Either way she gave the hand a squeeze.

'Dr Lance Sweets, can you hear me?' Cam demanded, staring into the face and desperately wanting the huge, brown eyes to open again.

'Plea... th... light... eyes... hurts...' Sweets whispered, his voice was deathly quiet and Cam could barely make out the words he was saying.

She thought for a moment, and then it struck her.

'Oh right! Yes! Sorry!' She apologised, jumping to her feet and drawing the blinds and switching off the light. The room was now lit only by the blue light from the screens.

Cam returned to sit by the bed, pulling her chair closer and holding Sweets' hand again. She gently stroked his forehead with her free hand.

She shook her head, relieved that he was okay and her eyes misted over with the emotion of the moment.

'Hey there Dr Sweets, you gave us quite a fright.' Cam said, unable to hold back a smile.

Sweets eyes opened and he stared directly up at the ceiling. He blinked twice and they filled with tears. He winced as some of the feeling returned to his body.

'Where am I?' He breathed, panicking.

Cam patted his hand reassuringly.

'How much do you remember?' She asked carefully.

Sweets' eyes moved to look at her disapprovingly, then gradually wandered back to look at the ceiling. He closed them in sudden understanding.

'Stupid... question huh?' He whispered.

'You're in the hospital. Don't worry; you're safe.' Cam assured.

Sweets' eyes suddenly snapped open. They were full of pain and a tear slid down his cheek.

'It hurts...' He whispered. His eyebrows furrowed as he eyes narrowed in confusion. 'Why does it hurt?' He asked groggily, his words gradually becoming clearer and approaching their usual fast pace.

He gasped as pain suddenly filled the whole of his body.

Cam moved forward, but couldn't do anything to help.

'It's okay. You're okay.' She whispered, gently stroking the un-injured side of his face and wiping the tears from his eyes.

Sweets screwed his eyes shut and whimpered gently. The hand that was held by Cam tightened, squeezing her fingers as tightly as he could to prevent himself crying out, but he had lost a lot of his strength, and the grip on Cam's fingers was weak.

'How... how long?' The psychologist stuttered, hissing through his teeth as he tried to distract himself from the all consuming agony.

'How long were you out? About three weeks. Nearly four.'

'And... di... did you... ah!' He shuddered. 'Did you catch him?' Sweets peered at Cam's face. Cam paused and stroked his hair gently, smiling as reassuringly as she could.

'Let's discuss that when you're feeling better.'

'So... that's a no.'

Cam chuckled.

'Damn, I forgot; psychologist.'

Sweets tried a faint smile, but it turned into more of a painful grimace.

'I... I can... can tell when you're lying... you know?' He whispered.

He shuddered violently and tears dripped freely into his pillow.

'Shhh. No more talking. You need to rest. I'm going to see if I can get the doctors to give you something for the pain.' Cam stood, but Sweets grabbed at her arm.

'Don't... don't care about the... ah... about the pain.... Just... please don't leave me... I... scared. Please don't go.' Sweets begged.

Cam took a deep breath and sat back down.

'Okay Dr Sweets, I won't go anywhere. But you promise me you won't talk, right?'

Sweets nodded, then instantly regretted it. His hand fluttered as though he was trying to raise it, but he was too weak to move at all.

'Try and get some sleep Sweets.' Cam asked gently.

Sweets closed his eyes and within minutes the pressure on Cam's hand had been released and he was asleep. Cam wiped her eyes and walked to the door that lead into the nurses office. She knocked and asked the nurse who appeared if they could sort pain relief for Sweets. They agreed and soon Sweets was strapped to a morphine drip.

Cam dialled Booth's number. He didn't pick up. He must have been busy with Parker or driving. She left a message on the answer phone.

'Hey Booth, it's Cam. Get everyone and get to the hospital, I have some really good news.'


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

Agent Booth didn't hear his phone ring; he was too busy chatting to his son in the car. Parker on the other hand did hear the phone.

'Daddy, daddy! Your phone went off!' He shouted.

Booth quickly pulled the car over and took his phone out of his pocket. He wondered why he hadn't noticed it ringing, but the realised that he always pays more attention to how he drives when Parker was in the car with him. He flipped open the phone, worried as to what he might find.

1 Missed Call from Cam and a message on the answer phone.

'That can't be good...' He whispered to himself. Parker glanced up, assuming that Booth was talking to him, but Booth shook his head and waved Parker away as he held his phone to his ear to listen to the message. His face was serious, scared even as he listened to Cam's voice on the answer machine.

Booth quickly broke into a smile, he hung up the phone and addressed Parker.

'Okay listen up Buddy, slight change of plan okay? We're going to go to mom's instead and I'm going to let you spend the evening with her!'

Parker looked disappointed.

'Why?' He asked childishly.

'Because Sweets is awake and I need to go check on him.'

'Can I come?'

'You can come by tomorrow, I'll get mom to drop you off, hey! Then you can give him the card!'

Booth ruffled his son's hair, Parker grinned.

Twenty minutes and several phone calls later Booth had collected Dr Brennan from the Jeffersonian and had arranged to meet Angela, Hodgins and Wyatt outside the hospital. They would then go in and check on Sweets (openly ignoring hospital policy of two visitors to a room, but they were sure they could argue around that somehow.)

'Do you think he'll be... any different?' Booth asked as the car approached the hospital entrance.

'Different? Why?' Brennan asked.

'You know, because he got beat up and maybe he'll be sort of scared...' Booth explained. 'Oh no, you don't think he's gonna cry do you?' He added.

Brennan laughed.

'No I don't think he's going to cry! I like Sweets, and over time I have come to trust that, although the psychology he uses doesn't work, it does seem to work for him. Empirically speaking, if he could get over the abuse before, it should be easier to handle second time around. And at least now he can apply a logical mind set to it and control it.'

Booth winced.

'You don't need to be so clinical about it!'

'Well, what he's been through and...' Brennan sighed, '... and the whole experience that we've had along side it, has go to me for some reason. And I don't like that we've been acting on emotion...'

'rather than science?' Booth finished for her.

'Rather than science.' Brennan agreed.

Both the FBI officer and the Anthropologist opened their car doors at once, and chatted as they strode towards the hospital entrance.

Hodgins was already standing at the entrance with Angela and Wyatt, he smiled as he saw the two approaching and lifted his hand in a wave of recognition. Booth returned the gesture.

Angela was holding a get well soon balloon that was tied to a small cuddly rabbit. Brennan noticed this before reaching the group by the entrance and felt a slight pang of guilt.

'Booth!' She whispered. 'Should we have got him anything?'

'I've already given him a card!' Booth exclaimed.

'As have I. As has Angela but she seems to have bought something else!' Brennan explained.

'Sweets won't mind Bones!' Booth smiled; he was oddly excited about seeing the young psychologist again.

The two groups met and walked happily into the hospital.

They arrived at Sweets' room and Booth knocked on the glass door, trying to peer through the blinds.

Cam opened it, smiling.

'He's a little dopey at the moment. They've given him a lot of pain relief and it seems to be taking effect.' She whispered warningly.

Booth grinned playfully at Brennan.

'Sweets is on drugs!' He whispered jokingly.

'Behave Seeley; he still has a long way to go.' Cam joked.

'Yeah, but he's okay!' Booth whispered back, grinning.

'We're not out of the woods yet.' Cam whispered, quieter than before.

The group wandered into the room.

Sweets was propped up slightly on pillows, not quite sitting, but so he wasn't lying flat. Although the bed spreads around him were arranged to be as comfortable as possible, something about his position seemed awkward. His eyes were closed, but fluttered open as the group walked in to see him. Both arms were heavily bandaged and there was still a dressing across his cheek. But he looked a lot better. He looked alive.

'Hey Sweets…' Brennan said gently as she walked into the room. She was the first in and walked straight to Sweets' side.

'Dr Brennan!' Sweets croaked. His voice was understandably husky and strained. He smiled with the un-injured side of his face.

Booth was behind Brennan. He seemed less sure of himself than he had done before, though luckily Sweets was in no condition to psycho-analyse him.

'Hey hey Sweets!' Booth laughed, fake-punching the air next to Sweets' arm in a friendly, manly manner. Sweets winced even though the fist never made contact. Booth felt awkward.

'How you feeling?' Booth tried to remain upbeat even though Sweets' appearance was weaker than he'd expected.

'Been better.' Sweets admitted honestly.

Angela ran forwards, she moved as though about to hug Sweets tightly, but thought better of it and patted his head. He smiled dopily.

'You gave us a fright sweetie.' She said, putting the rabbit holding a balloon on Sweets' lap. The psychologist beamed, then, as the muscles on the injured side of his face pulled at the stitches, the smile became a grimace. Angela smiled sympathetically.

'Good to have you back man!' Hodgins said, elbowing his way to stand around the bed as well.

Wyatt was last into the room.

'Dr Sweets! A pleasure to see you looking well!' He announced, and then quietly retired from the room, knowing full well that there was limited visiting time in Sweets' state and also that the rest of the squints would want to spend as much time as possible with him.

Everyone watched Sweets' expectantly. Happy to see him awake, and unsure really what to say or if there even was anything that they could say.

Sweets on the other hand was exhausted. His brain was fuzzy, he could hardly remember a thing and his thoughts were few and totally disorganised. The pain medication really was a good a god-send. It numbed the mental pain as well as the physical. Dopey and surrounded by friends, he slipped into a deep sleep.

Hodgins watched him.

'Well, that was an anti-climax.' He whispered, jokingly.

'He must be tired.' Angela whispered back, watching Sweets' face with an almost motherly-loving expression on her face.

Brennan slid her hand over Sweets' hand, gently stroking the back of it to reassure Sweets that he was not alone.

'Brennan and Booth, if you two want to stay here, we'll see you again tomorrow. Afternoon probably. He needs his rest.' Cam said with authority, suggesting that Angela and Hodgins leave. Although no-one wanted to leave, they understood that it was necessary. Besides, tomorrow he'd be stronger and they could stay longer.

When they left, Boot grinned at Brennan.

'Sweets is back!' He whispered.

* * *

The next afternoon, Sweets was feeling a little stronger and the group had gathered around his bedside again. He couldn't sit up on his own, let alone stand, but he was gradually getting better, but he couldn't be in a room on his own, and the dark was making him jumpy. The pain he was in was a lot, but it wasn't unbearable. He was recovering quickly, and he was talking nearly incessantly; his words confused with obscure trains of thoughts from the mind-addling pain killers, but his voice painful and croaky. The Nurses were trying to persuade him to eat with trays of food, but they remained uneaten, resting by the side of the bed.

Hodgins eyed the food on the tray besides of Sweets hungrily.

'Yo... dude... you gonna eat your pudding?' The entomologist asked.

Sweets looked up at him, his eyebrows narrowed in confusion.

'I uh... no.' He shook his head as much as his strength would allow.

Cam stepped in as Hodgins reached out for the chocolate pudding.

'Why not?' She asked.

Sweets smiled bravely.

'Everything hurts.' He admitted.

'Ah, except talking.' Cam teased. Sweets paused and considered it.

'No, no talking hurts as well.' He said.

'Well you're doing it enough!' Booth joked.

There was a knock on the door and Rebecca poked her head round.

'Hi. Parker wanted to...'

Parker ran into the room and over to Sweets' bed.

Rebecca mimed that he had five minutes at Booth.

'Dr Sweets!' Parker exclaimed, sitting on the bed.

'I made this for you!'

He handed the card over to Sweets. The psychologist tried to raise an arm to take it, but Cam jumped in faster, putting the card on the bedside table.

'Wow Parker! That... that's excellent! Thank you!' Sweets thanked the child.

'What happened to your face?' Parker asked, eyeing the padding attached to Sweets' cheek.

'Well, my uh...' Sweets started. Booth interrupted.

'He got hurt.'

Sweets shot Booth an odd look.

'Hey, you know Parker, the adults need to talk, so why don't you run along little man, and I'll see you later.' Booth suggested, lifting Parker off the bed and putting him on the floor.

'Ohhh... but I wanted to play with Sweets!' Parker moaned.

Sweets smiled.

'Well you can play with Dr Sweets after school tomorrow, providing he's up to it.' Booth promised.

'Okay!' Parker smiled. 'Bye bye Dr Sweets!'

Sweets laughed gently as Parker ran from the room.

'Bye Parker!' He called. Then when the door was closed, turned to Booth.

'You're not telling him what really happened?'

'I just, you know. Don't think he's old enough to hear about all the child abuse stuff.' Booth explained.

Sweets couldn't help but laugh a little.

'Agent Booth, I hope you realise the irony in what you just said.'

'Yeah well... I just think it would damage him for life if he thought that could happen.' Booth justified.

'I don't know why. I turned out okay, and you, you had an abusive father and you're absolutely...' Sweets started.

'Look Sweets. Just because you're in a hospital bed and you're all bashed up and hurt, doesn't mean you can talk about my father!' Booth snapped.

'Well as far as abusive fathers go, I can sympathise you know!' Sweets said cheerily. The combination of pain medication and all his friends around was making his head delightfully fuzzy and he wasn't at this point worried about anything.

'Sweets! You do not mention my father now!' Booth hissed.

'Well, okay. Maybe some other time.' Sweets relented, disappointed. He tried to shift himself so he was sitting more upright. Cam jumped in and prevented him from sitting up.

'No. Don't do that or you'll tear out your stitches. Be careful; you're still fragile!' She explained.

Sweets looked confused.

'But I don't feel any pain...' He said.

'That's probably because you're so drugged up on pain medication.' Brennan explained. 'Oh, and you won't be able to feel how weak your muscles are, so you might want to just ask one of us to help move you in future.'

Sweets wasn't paying attention. His brain was too light from the pain meds.

'Wait, I have stitches? Cool!' He exclaimed. 'What colour?'

Cam looked at Angela, confused. Hodgins grinned.

'Ummm... The usual colour Dr Sweets!' Cam said.

'Oh.' Sweets looked disappointed. 'Last time they were purple.' His voice went quiet and contemplative. 'I like purple...'

Cam smiled and shook her head. She and Booth helped Sweets into a more upright position.

'Better?' Booth asked, he was still grinning because Sweets was okay.

'Much better.' Sweets agreed. He scratched at the stitches in his chest absent mindedly, Cam was about to stop him but he had already stopped dead in his tracks.

'Something doesn't feel right...' He said, his face pale.

'Oh, you're missing your two lower ribs.' Brennan explained.

'Right.' Sweets nodded. His eyes narrowed in scared confusion as he looked up at Brennan. 'I don't need them do I?' He asked.

'Um... no... and strictly speaking you only have three of your actual ribs left. They re-constructed most of your ribcage from metal because it was so badly damaged.'

Sweets looked shocked.

'They couldn't finish the bottom two because you crashed. Twice. It's up to you if you want them or not.' Brennan finished.

Cam shot her a warning look.

The room was silent. No-one had expected to have to explain Sweets' injuries to him. At least not while he wasn't really thinking straight.

'Hold on... I... I died?' the psychologist asked quietly.

Tears filled Brennan's eyes as she remembered. She breathed deeply.

'Yes. Several times.' She said semi-robotically.

Booth stood on her foot as a warning.

'I died?' Sweets repeated.

Cam put an arm round his shoulders.

'Yes, but you're here now which is all that matters.' She said reassuringly.

Sweets turned to her, his eyes watery.

'And I have metal in my chest?' He whispered. This was hard to take in. The smiling faces in the room had fallen.

Sweets turned his head to Hodgins.

'Does this mean I'll set off security in airports? Because I don't like airports...'

Hodgins smiled, partly to reassure Sweets, partly because the psychologist was very childish when drugged up.

'No. No you won't set off security.'

'Good.' Sweets closed his eyes as he lost the strength in his neck to support his head. His head rolled to one side in an almost comical manner. He was suddenly extremely tired. Cam reached out and she and Booth very gently moved Sweets so that he was lying down again.

Sweets looked up and smiled. Booth smiled down at him. The psychologist would be alright. Booth was sure of it.

'Thank you.' Sweets mouthed, beaming in a dopey drug-addled manner. He gradually went cross eyed and his eyelids shut.

Booth smiled and patted the psychologist's shoulder gently.

'You rest up Sweets.'


End file.
